Vampire Slayer

Belita Renn

VAMPIRE SLAYER BY BELITA RENN Venus Press LLC

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The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

VAMPIRE SLAYER Copyright © 2006 by Belita Renn ISBN: 1-59836-349-2 Cover Art © 2006 by Steve Cook All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. Printed and bound in the United States of America. For information, you can find us on the web at www.VenusPress.com

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Chapter One

1860 London England~ With excitement’s adrenaline pumping through their blood, Mickie Willis and Betty Monde entered the Halloween party at Overton Hall. On the outskirts of London’s best district, the Hall was famous for hosting costume parties. Its location on the boarder of the cemetery made it a perfect place for this night’s festivities. The owner, Martin Overton, was an oddly secretive gentleman. Little was really known about him. He kept to himself and caused no problems so the members of society were inclined to overlook his peculiar nature. After all, most members of the Ton had peccadilloes they were keeping secret. An oil lamp had been placed on each front corner of the house. The night being a black one, the lamps did little to dispel the darkness. The areas between the lamps were darkened by shadows. They knew it was going to be an evening they would never forget, because they were excited over what they had seen in the shadows before entering the Hall. As they stepping out of their rented hackney, a man and woman had been locked in an embrace. Spotting the couple’s shadows just beyond the glow of lamplight, Mickie had pointed them out to Betty with a nod in the direction and a whisper. The man was boldly fondling the woman’s breast as though they were in a private location. The decadents of the event had sent adrenaline surging in their blood. They had witnessed their first intimate encounter. “It didn’t seem as though he was hurting her, that means she has allowed that before,” Betty whispered. “What are you talking about?” Mickie asked her friend. They were of a similar age, but Betty had lived under the burden of an overprotective family. Staying close so no one would hear their conversation, they bumped shoulders. “Oh, sorry,” Betty smiled. “I know because I overheard that the first time always hurts.” “How can you believe such a statement? Especially when it could merely be someone having fun with you.” 4

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“No way,” Betty said, and looked around nervously. “It was my parents. They were discussing marriage.” Shaking her head, Mickie didn’t bother attempting to correct her friend. It was clear Betty’s parents had tricked her to prevent her from allowing anyone to touch her. She would learn before her marriage the truth of the subject. Giggling softly, they hurried up the front steps. Having slipped out to attend the party, their families would not be expecting their return at a particular time. Mickie had wisely told her family she would be staying at Betty’s home. Betty said she would be at Mickie’s. As their parents would be celebrating the holiday with their friends, there was no reason for them to be worrying over what their daughters were doing for the night. After Mickie turned twenty-one, her parents had decided she was mature enough to behave without being chaperoned. Betty’s parents were not as considerate, although she was twenty-two, her mother was nosey and her father controlling. Mr. and Mrs. Mode were always demanding information from Betty about what she had seen or done when out of their sight. Feeling sympathy for her friend, Mickie had suggested slipping out to the party to give her friend a taste of freedom. The silver cast of Mickie’s ash-brown hair and Betty’s dark blonde had been covered with powder. Wearing Mickie’s grandmother Willis’ gowns, Betty and she would never be recognized. The low-cut empire gowns of lightweight material revealed as much as they concealed. The styles were popular during the 1820’s, but this was 1860, and only the pub wenches and light skirts wore such clothing these days, still they had needed costumes, and these worked just fine. A silver mask concealed the eye area of Mickie’s face from the merry makers; Betty wore white. Looking in Betty’s blue eyes sparkling with excitement, Mickie knew her violet eyes had a similar shimmer. Confident no one would ever recognize them, the ladies advanced into the ballroom. Musicians were positioned on a platform at the end of the brightly lit room. The French doors on the side and rear walls were open to allow fresh air inside. The center of the room was filled with beautifully gowned women in an array of colors dancing with elegantly clad gentlemen in black tails. If it weren’t for the masks, they could be at any ball. However, there were women in Victorian gowns, and men in satin breeches with silver buttons above stockings, with brightly colored waistcoats beneath their evening coats. A few wore riding outfits, while others wore simple day-gowns. Most were wearing masks, and others just holding them. The outer circle of the room was filled with people with ready smiles, mingled with conversations. 5

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Two young, provocatively dressed women had no difficulty attracting the attention of eligible young gentlemen. They danced and flirted, being careful not to drink anything stronger than wine, and no more than one glass an hour. This they had planned during the rented hackney ride to the hall. While they normally drank a little at the soirées and routes, Mickie was amazed at how willing the young men were to fetch them fresh glasses of wine. The supply of fresh glasses was constant which made it difficult for them to know just how much they actually drank. Leaving the dance floor, a handsome gentleman dressed in black tails stopped her partner. “Paul Tomas?” he questioned. He appeared to be in his early thirties. Dark hair brushed to the side, a twig fell artfully over his brow, lending him a disarming appearance. His piercing aqua eyes studied her face for a moment before turning back to her blonde escort. “I do not believe we have met.” Paul dismissed the man with a cold stare, and flashed her a frowning glance before continuing across the crowded room. Mickie had a feeling Mr. Tomas had recognized the man, and had been warning him not to disturb him while she was present. Feeling curious, she glanced over her shoulder at the receding gentleman with dark hair dressed in black. He had tanned skin as though he spent a lot of time outdoors. His aqua eyes as cold as the frozen winter lake followed their progress. Holding his hand over her fingers lying on his coat sleeve, Mr. Tomas continued to advance, forcing Mickie to turn her gaze forward. “Mr. Tomas where are we going?” He was not heading toward the corner where she and Betty had been standing. Betty would be expecting her to return soon. Stopping, Mr. Tomas turned and faced her. “I am smothering, Miss Mickie.” She had refused to give her last name. “I wish to step out for some air. If you do not wish to accompany me, I will be lonely for your companionship. Still, I will escort you back to your friend.” Stretching his neck in his collar, Mr. Tomas did look uncomfortable. He was unusually pale; she had noticed when he had first approached her to dance. Perhaps the dance had been more than his weak constitution could handle. He had danced smoothly; she couldn’t fault his ability. However, he may have put too large a strain on his energy. “If you are feeling unwell, Mr. Tomas? I should hate to leave you unattended.” She should find a porter to accompany him outside. Would it be safe to leave him alone even for a few minutes? “Then you will come with me to the garden?” “Yes, for a moment. If you do not recover once in the fresh air, I shall fetch someone to assist you.” 6

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“Thank you, Miss Mickie.” Squeezing her hand gently, he turned and started toward the door again. Following him through the French doors, she stepped onto the patio, mutely lit by an oil lamp on each corner pedestal. The pedestals had been designed with a center hole to hold the lamps in place. Inhaling a deep restorative breath, he glanced up at the black sky. “I am starting to feel better already. Will you stroll with me to the stream in the side garden?” He pointed toward the side lawn. A lamp somewhere on the side of the house cast light across a slice of the lawn beyond the end of the house. Paul had the oddest rust-colored eyes and pale blonde hair of a little baby. He had trusting, loyal eyes. It was understandable that he would expect others to have the same trust. His innocent expression made her feel certain he was truly feeling sickly, and wished fresh air. The tremulous smile touching the edge of his lips revealed that he was indeed beginning to feel better. “I believe I can trust you as far as the stream,” she teased with an amused grin. “However, I really should get someone that can help should you need it, so we mustn’t venture far.” He squeezed her hands. “That far you can trust me,” he vowed. “I believe you are all I will need to make me feel better.” Lifting her hand from his sleeve with his left hand, he slipped his right arm around her waist. Squeezing her waist, he escorted her across the patio and down the steps. Strolling slowly, he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. His arm around her waist held her body against his side more intimately than she felt comfortable with on such a short acquaintance. Mickie allowed it for the moment because she thought he might not have realized yet his touch was personal and very improper for a new acquaintance. When he didn’t soon remove his hand, she knew she must speak up. “Anyone seeing us will believe we are courting. Perhaps you should remove your arm from my waist,” she suggested in an unconcerned manner. “Does anyone here know your identity aside from your little friend?” He glanced down at her with a serious expression; a worry frown wrinkled his smooth eyebrow. Her eyebrows arched, fortunately, it was dark, in the area, and he couldn’t see her reaction. “I am certain there are several people of our acquaintance present.” “Ah, you hedge. Do you think I will steal you and your friend away? You think you, with your beautiful violet eyes and your friend with her bright blue eyes would never be seen again, hum?” He chuckled pleasantly. 7

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“You make me feel foolish, although the thought was fleeting, I am afraid I did think it,” she admitted. “If I did steal you, I probably wouldn’t return you even for gold and jewels.” They turned the corner of the house, strolling toward the stream. “I would venture to guess that behind that mask you are as lovely as your eyes. “Look, here comes your friend now.” Changing the subject, he indicated toward the front of the house. Mickie looked around him and spotted Betty strolling toward the stream. It seemed Betty’s companion had the same idea as Paul. How peculiar that they would be doing the identical thing, almost as though it had been planned. However, Mr. Tomas gave no indication of knowing the other man. “Let’s join them,” Paul murmured, and turned in their direction. He must have been thinking as she had that another man would be convenient were he to become ill again, she thought. Betty and her companion turned and continued walking in their direction. Entering the shadowed area, Mickie felt a chill of foreboding dance down her spine. She stopped walking to glance into the shadows, but Mr. Tomas’ strong arm behind her waist pushed her forward. “Come my dear, they see us coming, it is too late to turn away,” softly he scolded. He was right she was acting foolish, after all Betty was here. She was safe. Her legs felt wooden, but she continued walking. “I see you had the same idea,” Betty said as they approached. Her light tone indicating that she was in a joyful mood. Betty would be taking extra pleasure from this outing, as her freedom to do such things was rare. “Yes, odd that it was at the same time,” Mickie responded, glancing at her companion. Had he not mentioned stealing Betty and herself away, she wouldn’t be feeling this odd sense of danger. She would be as pleased with the evening as her friend was. “Isn’t it funny. But it was so stuffy inside, we just had to step out for a breath of fresh air.” “Phillip Johns,” Betty’s companions introduced himself. Paul Tomas introduced them in response. Johns took Mickie’s hand within his gloved one and kissed her knuckles. “We were going to the stream,” Mr. Tomas said. “Join us if you wish.” Turning Mickie, he started toward the ditch cut away by the racing water. Stopping back from the 8

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edge, she felt a rush of relief as they stepped from the shadows into the stream of light from the lamp at the corner of the house. “There is a much better view down here.” Betty’s companion continued walking down the edge of the water toward the shadows. Dressed in a black suit, he was a pleasing looking gentleman with dull red hair and murky green eyes. “Wait until you see this beautiful view. You can see the waters spread out over the rocks and there is a tiny waterfall that is lovely in the moonlight.” His words carried easily on the night air. Mr. Tomas glanced down at her. “Would you like to see the little fall? I haven’t seen it myself, and he makes it sound appealing.” Glancing at Betty’s receding back, she decided there would be no harm in following. Shrugging, she glanced at her companion’s innocent continence. Stop being a dolt, she told herself. “If it isn’t far. I don’t want to ruin this gown merely to see a little cascading water. It belonged to my grandmother.” “My I say you are as lovely as she was—” he stopped abruptly, and then added, “she must have been in that gown.” Oddly, he sounded as though he had known her grandmother at first, and then he had corrected. Betty and her companion circled a high bush and disappeared from view. Guiding her behind a tree, suddenly his arm circled her waist like a steel band; the palm of his other hand covered her mouth, preventing her from screaming. Crushed against his chest, her eyes wide with fear, she spotted Betty and her companion float upward into the night sky. Betty was struggling, but she wasn’t crying out. As Mr. Tomas lifted her into the air, Mickie strained to break free and screamed behind Tomas’ hand, but he managed to contain the sound. Squirming, she was only thinking of escape and not her location. Mr. Tomas dropped her, a horrified gasp took her breath as she fell, and catching her by the hand, she dangled in the air. Glancing down, she screamed when she saw how tiny the lighted building was beneath them. “Now, you will stop struggling and keep quiet, or I will drop you,” he spoke calmly, with deadly intent. Mickie nodded. “I’ll be good,” she vowed. Tugging her other hand upward, he lifted her until he could wrap his strong arm around her waist. Crushing her torso against his masculine frame, he wrapped his free arm around her back. “How are you doing this?” Wrapping her arms around his neck, she held on with trembling hands.

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“Flying? I’m able to do quite a number of things. This is merely a convenient one that makes life easier.” Tomas boasted, and reaching up, he tore the mask from her face. “As I thought, you are attractive.” Betty screamed. Straining her neck Mickie twisted and saw her friend dangling in the air. Johns had dropped her, and held her dangling from his hand, as she had been only minutes before. “What do you want with us?” “You will discover, soon enough. Do not worry over it.” “Are you going to kill us?” Breathless she queried. “No. Now you promised to keep quiet.” Clamping her lips closed, she held onto his shoulders tightly, in case he should decide to release her. She would have lifted her legs and locked them behind his waist had she been able to, but the long gown she wore prevents free movement of her legs. Soon, he lowered them to the ground. He released her body and grasped her wrist when she would have run. Holding her firmly, he tugged her into a crumbling, old wood house. The walls were tilting to the sides and the roof had holes. He dragged her across the room, and then ordered her to sit on a chair before the hearth. Moving swiftly, he wrapped a rope beneath her breast then tied it behind her back. The other man shoved Betty through the doorway. She stumbled and fell onto her hip and outstretched hands. Grasping the back of her gown, a man dragged her across the floor. Mickie could hear the material tearing beneath Betty’s weight, and her whimpers of fear. It took Mickie a moment to realize that it was the same gentleman that had been strolling with Betty in the garden. His features had altered just as Paul’s had changed— not grotesquely, but enough that he appeared to be another man. No one would be able to describe them if they were ever seen committing a crime, such as kidnapping. Unless they changed back, but she had a feeling they would not. They had somehow altered their features to snatch someone from the party. Betty and she had been the unlucky choices. Betty was dragged to a narrow bed, and then tossed onto the mattress. The man then tied her arms to the iron headboard. Her friend screamed when the man ripped open the front of her gown from neckline to hem. Spreading the material from her body, he exposed her flesh to his lusty gaze. Betty pleaded in a terrified tone then whimpered when he reached out and grasped her breast. Mickie struggled against the rope, longing to help her friend. She feared she 10

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was about to see Betty raped, before the same thing happened to her. The man plucked Betty’s dark nipple, and she cried out. “If you don’t shut her up, Charlie, I’ll do it for you.” Tomas decreed. The man Mr. Tomas addressed as Charlie backhanded Betty across the cheek. Crying, Mickie continued to struggle against the ropes controlling her arms. The man climbed onto Betty’s body. Tilting her head, he lowered his mouth to her neck. Betty screeched, kicking up with her legs, but she had no means of escape. Turning her head from the vile scene, Mickie faced her abductor. “Mr. Tomas, please let us go.” “You will address me as Master or Master Paul,” he instructed in a gravelly timbre. His expression hard, his face seemed to be swelling, the bones pushing in a more distended manner beneath the flesh. It was enough of a change that he appeared older and mean. “Yes Master.” Swallowing the bile rising in her throat, Mickie knew that she loathed this monster. Betty cried out, kicking her legs. When her movements stopped, Mickie feared the worst. If Betty was dead, that left her alone with these two creatures. When the man called Charlie moved off Betty she was still moving, her body jerked as though she was still alive, but in pain, and there was blood on her throat and chest. Tears flowing down her cheeks, Mickie watched her friend with feelings of remorse rising within her. This was her fault. Had she not suggested that they slip out, these monsters couldn’t have captured them. If they hadn’t lied to their parents, someone would be looking for them. It would be tomorrow before anyone would notice their absence. Tomorrow was a lifetime away. They could easily be dead long before it was even discovered that they were gone. “I will enjoy watching you suck my cock,” Charlie smugly said to Betty. Mickie understood the true depths fear could carry one. She was so frightened she was having difficulty drawing in breath. She felt lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, yet feared what would happen to her if she fainted. Mr. Tomas grasped her chin and turned her to face him. “I am your master. You will obey me in all things. You will answer when I address you, or you shall be punished.” “What did he do to Betty?” she managed to whisper through her strangled throat. “I didn’t give you permission to speak!” His tone rose to a high angry pitch. 11

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“Yes, Master.” She didn’t know how she had ever thought his face innocent like a babe’s. This man had cruel features. His face had changed; the bones of his jaw, cheeks, and eyebrows seemed to be larger, as though they had grown beneath the death-white mask the flesh had become. Tied to the chair, she could do nothing when he reached out and removed her breasts from the neckline of her gown. Tears flowed from her eyes, and she blinked them aside. Squatting before her, he reached out a hand and placed it beneath her gown then slid it up her trembling leg, moving closer to her crotch. Leaning forward, he licked her nipple. His hand touched the curls covering her mons. Her body jerked in rejection to his touch. Opening his mouth, he revealed long canine teeth to her view. Hitching breaths struggled into her lungs. Sitting back on his heels, Tomas smiled at her. “You will make a good slave. You will answer when I talk to you slave.” “Yes Master,” she whispered. Withdrawing his hand from her curls, he stood and crossed the room to where Betty lay on the bed. Crawling on top of her, he suckled her breast, and then sank his teeth into the tender flesh. Lifting his head, he licked the blood that oozed from the wound. Tilting his head back, he looked at Betty with a feral grin. “You want me to make love to you slave?” He asked Betty. When she didn’t respond, he slapped her face. “Answer me slave. Tell me you want me.” “I--I want you,” Betty mumbled. Twisting his head, Tomas gazed at Mickie. “You want me to make love to your friend?” “No Master,” she pleaded with her eyes for him to show mercy. “Are you jealous of Betty’s beautiful body, slave?” “No Master.” She was wise enough to know that Betty had little control over the contours of her body. Just as Mickie had little say in the shape she had inherited from her ancestors. It worried her that Betty was not reacting to what they were doing to her. She knew her friend was as terrified as she was. Mickie prayed that Betty’s mind had not snapped under the stain of immense fear. Tomas’s smile was feral as he lowered his head to Betty’s breast and suckled the wound he had made in her soft flesh. Charlie had disappeared from her view. She didn’t know if he had quit the room or if he stood behind her. Twisting her head, Mickie tried to catch a glimpse of the other vampire. A few minutes later, she caught sight of him entering the room through a doorway in the corner behind where she sat. 12

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He paused after stepping into the room, watching Tomas and Betty. Lying limp, Betty’s arm dangled off the side of the bed. Hoping her friend had not died from the wound, she watched Betty’s hand for movement. She lay limp, her eyes were closed making it difficult to determine if she was alive. Mickie twisted her head to watch as Charlie advanced. He came up beside the chair where she sat, tied, with her breasts exposed. Embarrassed, but not humiliated; she refused to be humiliated by what was happening as it was being forced upon them. Betty had nothing of which to be ashamed of either. Mickie hoped Betty also understood that. She longed to call out to her friend, but feared the repercussions of such an action. It bothered her that she was not braver, but in truth, she didn’t believe anyone would have reacted any differently in their situation. She was terrified and would obey, but till if the possibility arose she would escape. Would she stay and fight for Betty, if she got free and Betty was tied? She thought the only hope for both of them would be to run for help if the opportunity arose. Let a group of big, muscular men come and beat these monsters for their crimes against us, she thought. “Ah, look at those beautiful breasts.” Pausing at her side, Charlie reached out a finger and touched her expose nipple. “I guess my friend has left it up to you to entertain me.” Moving in front of her, he brushed the hair from her shoulders, exposing her to his sharp eyes. He was an ugly man now, his dark-red hair was reminiscent of Betty’s blood, and his murky green eyes reminded her of a predator. Leaning forward, he exposed his long canines. Crying out in total terror, she tried to move aside, away from those long, sharp teeth. “Please,” she begged. “No, you have it wrong. You are here for my pleasure.” A lopsided grin twisted his lips in an ugly grimace around his long canines. “Are you going to be a good slave, or must I force you to suck my cock?” “I would rather die.” He chuckled. “No, you will not die until I wish for you to die. I like the idea of having a weak human to do my biding. You will not always be a human, but you will always do my biding.” Leaning down, he dragged up her gown and exposed her thighs to the cool night air. Dropping to his knees he leaned over her leg. She brought her knee up to hit him. She longed to break his nose. Grasping her ankle, he held her leg still, although she was struggling to jerk it upward. His fangs bit into her thigh, pain sliced into her leg. Crying out, she jerked up with her other leg and hit him on top of his head with her knee. 13

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He lifted his head and glared at her. “Do that again and I will rape you.” “Don’t you mean kill me?” she rudely demanded, wanting him to mean kill instead of rape. She wanted to enrage him to the point of getting it over with fast. She didn’t want to be anyone’s slave and would rather die than be under this monsters thumb. “I said rape, slave.” He glared into her eyes for a moment, and she felt a new revulsion as the image of him crawling onto her body formed in her mind and held her in its web. She was unable to shake the images from her mind as they played out. He had to be putting the thoughts in her head. He may have even thought he was exciting her. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Charlie forced her legs apart and thrust his finger into her pubic curls with an expression of triumphant. She would rather have her bones broken than give him any pleasure. He lowered his head and the image faded. Licking the blood from her thigh, it felt as if an animal was lapping at the warm fluid leaking from the wounds. The pain had gone as though it had never hurt when he bit her. “Charlie,” Tomas called from across the room. “Leave her alone. She is our reserve.” Lifting his head, Charlie smiled mischievously at his companion. “But you have taken my date. I shall share yours.” “Theses women are not dates, they are slaves.” Tomas withdrew from Betty, his erection standing before him; he tugged his breeches up and over it. “Well you have mine, I will have yours.” Charlie sounded like a petulant child. “No. We share as we planned. I will mark Mickie, and then we shall take them home. Once there, you can take your pleasure with Betty.” Sighing, although it didn’t sound like a breath, more like a sound he made in his throat, Charlie rose from her leg and moved aside. Her legs trembling, Mickie watched as Tomas advanced toward her. Why? Did he mean to bite her merely to leave his mark on her? Charlie crossed the empty hull of the crumbling house to the narrow cot, grasping Betty’s arms he tugged her from the bed and tossed her over his shoulder. “I will see you there.” Shaking his red hair from his eyes, Charlie started toward the door. Heart pounding Mickie shifted her gaze back to Tomas. “You want to be my slave don’t you?” “No… Master.” She remembered to add master at the last moment. Leaning over her, he cupped her breast with one hand, squeezing it between his fingers, rubbing the nub of her nipple against the pad of his palm. Lowering his head, he 14

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bit into her breast. She screamed, but the pain faded almost instantly. Mickie could feel the warm liquid running down her breast. Tomas lifted his head and smiled, then leaned forward as though he was going to kiss her. At the last moment, Mickie turned her head aside. His cold lips connected with her cheek near the edge of her mouth. Moving away, Tomas straightened. The hand on her breast squeezed deep into her flesh with the tips of his fingers. Mickie knew there would be bruising on her tender flesh in the morning. Closing her eyes, she resisted the need to cry out her pain. She refused to give him the satisfaction. Clamping her jaw shut, she glared at him with all the hate she was feeling. Chuckling he released her breast. “Come kitten, sheath your claws. You are going to love being my slave.”

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Chapter Two

His head snapped up and he stared at the door standing open from Charlie’s departure. While he was striding quickly across the room, Mickie twisted to watch the vampire. Tomas stopped in the doorway. Then he was gone. She heard a loud impact from beyond the wall. She didn’t remember much about the exterior of the dwelling, but she knew the surrounding area was thick with foliage. A snarling sound and a loud smack came next, followed quickly by a grunt and a sound of something loud crashing against the wall. Gasping she twisted, trying to see what was happening. A big man came tumbling through the doorway. Tomas followed the stranger into the room, a vicious snarl on his stark featured. “You want to kill me?” he laughed, advancing into the room. The dark-haired man was the same gentleman that had approached them earlier at the dance. The sun would chase the vampire away and the gentleman could rescue her…them, she thought. Scrambling to his feet, the stranger prepared for the attack. Running across the room, Tomas charged at the man as though he were an animal. The crash sound when they collided was the same noise she had heard through the wall. Fists punched into the ribs of the opponents. They plummeted each other with their fists. The man grunted when the fist landed against his kidneys. The fight seemed to last forever. Mickie knew she wanted the stranger to live. He was her rescuer; he had to win. She couldn’t imagine what would happen to her, or the man should Tomas win the fight. The stranger reeled across the room and crashed into the bed. Bracing his hand on the bed it came away wet with Betty’s blood. The man ran out the door as fast as a human could run. Tomas paused to spare her a smiling glance. “I will kill him now.” He sauntered toward the door as though the fistfight hadn’t fazed him. Stepping into the doorway Tomas froze and stumbled a few steps backward, an arrow in his chest. The man stepped into the doorway with a crossbow in his hand, 16

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and lifting it high, he aimed and shot another arrow. It pierced Tomas’s chest and he stumbled, falling to the floor, blood seeping from his mouth and chest. Advancing on Tomas, the man stood over him, his face a blank mask. “You’re too late,” Tomas mocked before his head hit the floor. Striding from the room, the man returned with a silver sword. Holding his arm high, he swept it down with force and Tomas’s head rolled across the floor. Mickie screeched at the horrid sight, and lifted her eyes to the stranger. Would he kill her or set her free? “Release me.” Turning, he stared at her with the same blank expression. He looked as though he was studying her. His gaze moved to her breasts and only then did she remember they were exposed to his view. Heat flooded her cheeks. “Release me,” she demanded in an urgent tone. “We must leave before the other returns.” “When did he bite you?” His gaze remained on the blood on her breast. “A few minutes ago. Will you stop gawking and help me?” He arched a dark eyebrow and strolled toward her as though they had all day. “I believe I have already helped you. I have saved your life.” “Thank you.” He nodded, then stepped behind her, and released the rope. It slid away as he pulled it to the sides. Stuffing her breasts into her gown, she rose on trembling legs. Her thigh was sore from the first bite that Charlie had made. “Thank you for coming. How did you know they had taken us prisoner?” “I didn’t. I came for him, not you.” Striding toward the door, he paused in the doorway and glanced back at her. “You said they had taken us?” She nodded. “Yes, Betty and I. The one called Charlie took her away. He said he was taking her home. He introduced himself as Phillip Johns at the party, but when we arrived Paul Tomas called him Charlie.” “Any hint as to where home is?” “No, but wouldn’t it be close?” Glancing over his shoulder, she was able to see the golden rays of the rising sun brightening the dark sky. “Thank the stars the sun is rising. Do they really need to bury themselves when the sun rises?” “I believe darkness is all they need, away from all rays of the sun. Was Betty bitten?” She nodded. “Several times.” 17

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She followed him out the door and paused to look about. “Where are we? I don’t know which way to go to get home? I must get help to find Betty.” “You can forget Betty, the other vampire has probably given her his blood, if he plans to make her a vampire. Either way, she will be fully infected.” Blood? She swallowed the bile rising in her throat. “Infected?” “It’s like a snake bite. One bite and you might survive. Should, if you are healthy, two is worse. Did he give her any blood?” “Ugh, no, not that I am aware of.” Her legs turning to rubber she leaned against a tree. “Where are we?” “We are in the outskirts of London, near White Castle. Did Tomas give you blood?” “No.” Rubbing her thigh, she thought of the tender feeling of the punctured flesh. Was she infected? Snake bite. She shuddered at the thought. “Would you tell me if he had?” He gazed at her suspiciously. “Certainly.” She could tell he didn’t believe her as he continued to study her. She wasn’t concerned with what he thought of her, Betty’s life was in danger. “How do we get back to town? Do you have a carriage or coach?” “No, I ride a horse.” Forcing herself to breath deeply, she rubbed her brow to cover her swooning condition. Should she tell him about the other bite? “This infection you mentioned. What is the treatment?” “Treatment? Other than abstinence, I don’t believe there is one. The body must fight it.” Her body slumped from relief. Abstinence from sexual relations wouldn’t be difficult. If she wore a chastity belt, she wouldn’t be safer. She didn’t even have a beau. “Abstinence from blood. That is most important.” She flinched; scrunching up her face, she wondered how anyone could ever feel the desire to drink blood. How do the victims know that blood is what they desire if they have never tasted it, which she hadn’t? “Blood, nothing else?” She was certain a craving for blood would never be a problem. She was safe on both counts, but she had been bitten, twice. He had said twice was a bad thing. Was it a death sentence? “We need to go if we are going to find someone to help us find Betty.” She pushed herself from the tree trunk. She felt okay still her time could be growing short. “We, us, I don’t recall inviting you to go anywhere with me.” “You cannot leave me here. I could die.” 18

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“Why? Oh, you are worrying about the infection. You are going to be sick, but it will pass. You look healthy to me. I don’t think you will have a problem.” “But I need to get somewhere to find help for Betty, and for me.” “Not my problem. I saved your life. You have no right to expect more from me. I need to move fast if I am going to find that other one. What did you say his name is?” “Charlie, but I didn’t get a last name.” “Thanks, goodbye, good luck, have a nice life.” Turning he started walking toward the trees. Hurrying after him, she was determined to keep up with his long strides. “Wait, I don’t know which way to go. You must at the least get me to a location where I can get assistance.” Stopping abruptly as he turned behind a large tree, she ran into his back. He smelled good enough to eat. Lifting her nose, she inhaled his sweet scent. It reminded her of mint leaves. At present, he was her hero. She couldn’t accept that he didn’t wish to help find Betty. He was just being dominant male, and refusing to reveal his kind side. Turning around, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his chest. “I think I would like a reward.” Lowering his head, he claimed her mouth. His soft lips caressed hers, filling her mind with pleasure. Being in the arms of her hero was heavenly. She sighed, and his moist tongue invaded her mouth. Stroking and caressing her mouth, he shattered the modesty that had been pounded into her mind for years. His kiss didn’t embarrass her in the slightest, it was remarkable, and she wanted all the sensations he had to offer. Leaning on the tree trunk, he held her snugly to his hard torso, crushing her breasts against his black waistcoat. Her heart fluttered, her body started to throb. The ache so new and unusual it took her by surprise. This was a new experience, and she didn’t know what she was supposed to do. Unconsciously she relaxed and allowed concern of failure to float away. Her mind switched to instinct and she responded, kissing him with a new found passion rising from her soul. She rubbed her mons against him in reaction to the throb. His firm thigh felt wonderful against her flesh. The slicing sensation that flew from her mons to deep in her female core felt like her insides had expanded and pulsed. She moaned, pressed more firmly against his hard thigh, and ground her pelvis, enjoying the delicious sensations that filled her lower abdomen. His kiss grew more impassioned; large hands roamed her back and cupped her buttocks. Holding her hips, he held her in place and rubbed his hard pelvis against her mons. His engorged erection pushed against her stomach and she reveled in his desire for her. She felt the same needy desire. It made her feel totally feminine that he was feeling 19

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as strong of a reaction to her as she was for him. Actually, he felt too hard and slightly painful, almost as though they were bone against bone. Moving her hand between their bodies, she used it as a cushion between his engorged cock and her mound. Groaning in her mouth, he tightened his grip for a moment before he pulled back and glanced down at her hand holding his crotch. Covering her hand with his, he moved it up and down the bulge beneath the soft gabardine material of his slacks. The material was warmed by the heat emanating from the soft textured mound of flesh in his breeches. Closing his eyes, he tipped his head back and growled deep in his throat, like a caged beast. That she could force these reactions from his body was a heady sensation. His hands settled on her shoulder and caressed the sensitive flesh of her throat with both thumbs. Leaning forward, he reclaimed her mouth in a passionate kiss. His hands sliding across her shoulders and down her arms carried the material of her gown with them. Her breasts popped free of the gown’s bodice as he continued to drag the material down until it pinned her hands. Tugging her hands free of the material, she returned them to his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath her fingertip. He radiated heat through the material of his shirt and waistcoat. Sliding her fingers within his coat, she started opening the buttons of his waistcoat. She wanted to feel more, and the material was in her way. His hands covered her breasts and flicked the nipples with his fingers. Gasping in surprise as the clench of longing locked in her chest, she struggled for breath. Pulling back from his mouth, she panted. Smiling, he cupped her breasts within his palms. “I accept the reward you are offering.” She didn’t want her exploration disturbed. Her brow wrinkling from confusion, she shoved the waistcoat to his sides, and then working her fingers between the buttons of his shirt. Soft hairs brushed against her questing fingers. “You like exploring me?” “Yes, you feel so different. Soft yet firm beneath, like velvet over rock.” He shook his head. “I will give you velvet over the iron of my spear.” Pulling her forward, he reclaimed her swollen lips. His hands continued to caress her breast, and then slipped down her ribs. Goosebumps raced beneath her flesh and ended in her crotch. Her moans were answered by his groans as though they were of one mind. His hands worked up her skirt, and she felt the brush of the legs of his breeches against her limbs. When his hand touched her mons she forgot to breath, her eyelids slipped down and blocked him from view. Without eyesight, the sensations felt stronger. 20

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His finger toyed with her labia as her hands made their way into his shirt and explored his chest. Lifting her leg, he pulled it to his waist, bringing her labia against his engorged erection. She felt the hard head of his shaft wiggling at the opening of her sheath. Then he was holding her hips and pulling her forward, impaling her on his body. He drank her cry of pained surprise into his mouth as he broke her maidenhead. She pulled away from him feeling outrage. “Why is every man trying to hurt me?” He stared at her in shock for a moment, while she gapped at his erection. Flattening his mouth, he tugged his breeches up to contain the engorged shaft. “You are in a panic. Calm down. How was I to know you were a virgin? You came on to me like an experienced woman. Shit, you have a bite on your thigh! How many times were you bitten?” He was staring at her legs. Shoving her skirt down to cover her body, she smoothed the material over her knees, and then flicked the hem into place. “Just twice. Once by each vampire.” “God’s Blood, why didn’t you say so? You probably don’t even know what you are doing.” Grasping her arm, he pulled her beside him, wrapping his arm around her waist he held her against his body. His heat was welcome after the night’s cool air had touched her body. She dragged the top of her dress up between them and concealed her breasts. She hadn’t realized how cold her body was until she touched against him. “I know what we did, were doing. Why did you hurt me?” “It always hurts the first time. You probably won’t even remember this and I am going to be forced to tell you that you gave me your virginity.” He sounded regretful. They walked through the trees together. He hugged her close when she started to pull away to enter a narrow space between the trees. “What is your name?” he asked, turning so she remained against his side to pass through the cramped area. “Mickie Willis, what is yours?” “Arthur Start.” “I don’t think you need to hold me up. I am not sick,” Mickie complained. “Yet.” “Aren’t you? You don’t realize how much you are staggering now.” “I am not staggering. I am being bumped around by your hip, and if I were, it would be because you hurt me.” “Sure. Just hold onto me. How long since the first bite?” “I don’t know.” “Guess,” he demanded. “An hour or two, maybe three. But it was a small bite.” “How the devil do you get a small bite?” 21

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“I kneed him in the head when he bit me.” “Good, maybe you only got a small amount of his poison in you.” He didn’t want to tell her he had to kill the vampire to stop the link between them. He wasn’t even certain it was true. She tapped her thigh. “Maybe there wasn’t time.” “His teeth, fangs went in, right?” “Yeah.” “He infected you.” His horse was tied not far from where they stepped from the trees. He lifted her onto the saddle, and then climbed up behind her. Grasping her buttocks, he lifted and positioned her on his lap. His touch sent a thrill through her buttocks and female core. The sensations were new and it shocked her into moaning. “Ah hell.” He sounded pained. “What?” Lying against his chest, she placed her head on his shoulder. “Nothing. Did you taste their blood, even a drop?” “No.” “Will you vow to it?” She pressed her lips against his neck, testing the warmth and texture. His breath seemed to stop for a moment. Had she shocked him? “Sorry. I was just curious how you would feel beneath my lips.” He groaned. “Just keep silent, and your mouth to yourself.” “I will behave.” She snuggled against his chest and sighed contented. “I have never ridden on a horse with another person before. It’s quite nice.” A pleasant aroma of leather, mint, and male surrounded her. It was a heady combination. She inhaled it deeply, savoring the scent. She wanted to remember him always like this, with his arms around her like a knight of old. He had even rescued her from the evil villain. Remembering that Betty had no knight to rescue her, tears filled her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. She had to talk her knight into saving Betty. Wiping her eyes she sniffed. “Are you crying?” He shoved his hand behind her back then withdrew it, and held it before her breasts. A handkerchief dangled from his fingers. “It’s over, you are safe now,” he said gently, his arm squeezed her lightly. “Are you hurting? Do you need to change positions?” “No. I am fine. I am thinking about poor Betty. Please help me find her?” “Hey, if I find him, which I am going to do, I will find her.” “You promise?” 22

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He sighed heavily. “You know I cannot promise.” Her tears continued to fall. Her shoulders shook against his chest. “Remember I told you that you were getting sick. You are feeling emotional because you are sick.” “I am worried about Betty,” she whispered around the tears choking her throat. “I think we are close to an Inn. You must stop crying or people will think I have hurt you.” “I have blood on my gown.” “Oh yeah, I forgot. Tell you what, you can wear my coat when we go into the Inn.” “Why are we stopping at an Inn, are you going to get help there?” “You mean tell people you were attacked? Perhaps, after I have made certain you are taken care of.” Lying against his chest, Mickie sniffled until she fell asleep. Dreaming she was tied to the chair, she struggled awake. Her eyes snapped open just as they entered the Inn’s courtyard. Reading the sign, Cock Inn, she asked, “Why do they give Inn’s names like that, do they think people are too dumb to know they are not speaking of roosters?” He chuckled. “I guess they figure if you are old enough to discern the sexual connection, you are old enough not to care.” The horse stopped before the Inn. He eased her forward and slipped from beneath her, then slid to the ground. Grasping her around the waist, he helped her down. Placing her hands on his shoulders for support, she slid down his hard frame. “You smell nice.” “Thank you. Here slip into my coat.” He pulled it from the back of his saddle and held it out for her to slide into. He checked the buttons on his shirt, waistcoat, and coat to make certain they were secure. “Don’t talk while we are inside. You are saying some strange things and I don’t want you to say anything to make people suspicious of us. You are talking a little out of your head.” He pressed his cool hand to her forehead. “As I thought, you have a fever.”

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Chapter Three

Art didn’t want to tell her of the legend that the vampire that bit her must be killed or she would die. He didn’t want to frighten her anymore; she had endured enough for one night. She was unstable enough without the worry of dying and turning into a vampire. He didn’t want to tell her that he would probably have to kill her friend, if he did find her. She had enough to deal with on her own, without worrying about him killing Betty. And he certainly couldn’t take her with him. If she was forced to watch her friend beheaded, he wasn’t confident that her mind would withstand the shock. It was his fault; he had allowed Paul Tomas to give him the slip at the party. He needed to get on the trail of the other one she called Charlie. It had to be Charlie Faith, the redheaded monster he had been seeking since he had lost Delilah. He was a sly vampire, never staying at one place for long. Mickie had said Charlie was going home. If that was true, then Charlie was in Sussex. The one he had killed tonight was from Sussex. He felt certain Charlie would be using Paul’s home. This lady Betty would not provide him with a home, she had a family. It meant he would probably either kill her or rip off her head before she could turn, or he would keep her at Paul’s home until he found another with a home. Art had to catch up with him while he was still at Paul’s. If he could get there soon, he could arrive before Charlie was aware that Paul was dead, and flee. He hated to leave Mickie alone while she was so ill, but if he didn’t get to Charlie right away, he would be forced to begin his search again. Helping Mickie inside the Inn, he lean her again the desk while he rented a room. Then held her to his side and helped her up the stairs. Once they were in the room, he locked the door. “I want you to get into bed.” “That sounds like something a man would want. Are you going to get in bed with me?” she asked in a sassy tone. “No, I am not. I am going to go look for your friend.” His deep timbre sounding offended, his shoulders straightened. “Then I am going too.” Wrapping her arms around her waist she swayed from side to side. 24

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“Do you want to risk being captured again?” She lowered her head and dragged her foot across the floor. “No.” Lifting her head, she smiled. “But you will protect me.” “You will only be in the way.” He stared at her with hard challenging eyes. Her head dropped to the side. “Will you come back?” “Yes, I have to sleep also. I will be back by dark. Now, I want you to get beneath the covers.” Taking her arm, he escorted her to the bed. Holding her arms while she sat, he made certain she was stable then lifted her feet onto the bed. He removed her shoes and placed them on the floor at the foot of the bed. Once he was certain she would stay in the bed, he headed for the door. Grasping the doorknob, he glanced at her, a frown tugging his eyebrows down. “You must lock the door after me. Sorry, I hate to make you get up again.” “It’s okay, I will.” She looked so frail that he felt sorry for her. He didn’t like to feel emotion for anyone. He specially didn’t want to feel emotions for her. He might need to kill her in a short while. Opening the door, he stepped from the room and closed it behind him. Waiting in the hall he listened for the sound of her turning the lock. Once he heard the click, he sauntered down the hall to the stairs. He stopped at the desk and ordered a sandwich to carry with him. He spent more time on his horse than he did in a chair. If he ever rid the world of Charlie, he wasn’t certain he would remember how to sit at a table and have a proper meal. The bar wench brought him the sandwich and he started toward the door. Taking a bite, he glanced up the stairs and stopped with his hand on the entrance door. Holding onto the rail, Mickie was at the top of the stairs. White as a sheet she looked ready to faint. Seeing him, she released the handrail to wave. It was a mistake, she tipped forward over the rail. Dropping his sandwich, he raced up the steps. “What are you doing out of bed?” Grasping her waist, he pulled her from the railing. “I am going home,” she lisped. “No, you are sick. You must rest. I’ll have the taproom wench bring you up a tray of food and something to drink.” “I’m sick?” Art nodded and she patted his cheek with a clammy hand. Looking down the steps, the woman that had brought his sandwich was standing at the desk watching them. “Would you bring up a tray with food and drink for two.” “Yes, my lord.” 25

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Helping Mickie to her feet, he held her up and walked her up the steps. Once safely on the landing, he swept her into his arms and carried her to the room. She had left the door standing open making it easy to enter, for him as well as anyone else. “I will stay and share a meal with you. Then you must take a nap.” She started shaking all over. He had to assume it was the fever. When the waitress brought the tray she tapped on the door and he opened it for her. Taking the tray from her, he carried it to the table beside the bed. “What is wrong with the lady?” Hands on her hips the servant was staring at the blood on Mickie’s chest and gown. “We had a carriage wreck. I unhitched the horse and we rode here.” “No we didn’t,” Mickie contradicted him, and then giggled. “She is hurt and sick. She is out of her head with fever,” he explained to the servant. “Shall I bring up warm water and some rags to clean her up?” “Yes, that is a good idea. Thank you. Something to drink too, wine or brandy.” “We don’t got a physician here. There is a mid-wife up the road a spell. I can send someone for her,” the servant suggested. “That won’t be necessary, just the water and wine. Rest is what she needs.” After casting a frowning glance at Mickie’s chest, the woman departed. “That is all we need, a nosy barmaid.” He helped her to sit up against the headboard. “We should warn her.” Her tone was breathless. She was sinking into sickness fast. If Betty had been effected this fast, she was probably dead. She stared at him beneath droopy eyelids. “They said they were making us their slaves.” “Sexual slaves. I am not surprised that was what they had in mind. A new fledgling is under the master’s control.” Placing a plate on her lap, he picked up a potato with the fork and held it to her mouth. “Fledgling? What is that?” Sliding her lips over the potato, she made eating look erotic. “A new vampire is unable to control their emotions. The vampire that makes them is able to control them completely.” She turned her face away when he held a carrot to her lips. The stew smelled delicious, but when sick, food wasn’t always appealing. “You must eat Mickie. It will help your body fight the infection.” “Paul was ordering Charlie, so he was the fledgling?” 26

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“No, Charlie isn’t a fledgling. If he allowed Paul to order him around there was a reason. It is more likely they were partners, and Paul had more control because he had a home.” The barmaid returned with the things he had asked her to bring. She wanted to hang around and learn as much as possible, but Art wasn’t having any of her snooping. He hustled her out the door and closed it firmly, then locked the latch. “Okay, now you will finish eating all of that food.” Taking the brandy, he poured some on the rag then began rubbing it over her breasts. She smiled, watching him but didn’t offer to assume the task. When he had finished with the exposed skin, he looked up at her amused eyes. “I need to lower your gown to finish cleaning your wounds.” Looking at him with glazed eyes she didn’t resist when he lower her sleeves from her shoulders and exposed her breasts to his view. Setting to work, he tired to be as detached as possible over his task. The blood had dried in the punctured wounds and the surrounding flesh was red and inflamed. Milky flesh surrounded the inflamed skin on one side of the dusty rose of her areole. It was perfect with the nipple forming a little pout in the middle. Mickie didn’t help clean her breast. She laid her head back against the headboard and moaned softly. His cock was straining against the front of his breeches by the time he had finished cleaning her breasts. Then he lifted her gown and cleaned the wounds on her thigh. He wanted her to have every chance at survival. His cock was painful, tempting his conscious as he quickly cleaned the final wound. He longed to take her gown off and give her a complete bath. “I have to go now, if I am going to get back by dark.” He pulled her gown back over her breasts and thighs, as she hadn’t bothered. “Come lock the door, and stay in this room and in that bed until I return.” When he walked to the door, he had to pause to adjust his cock before leaving the room. Seeing his action, she giggled. Standing, she started toward the door as he slipped out. After hearing her lock the door, he hurried down the stairs. Mickie returned to the bed and fell upon the mattress. She was tired, too tired to be bothered with food. At the same time, she felt sick all over. Her blood seemed to throb through her veins, and it felt as though her whole body were vibrating. She rolled onto her back, too tired to yawn, she sigh. Her muscles felt fatigued as if she had worked hard all the day. 27

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Art had been her distraction; now that he was gone, she felt every ache. Feeling this sick, she felt sorry for her pitiful self. How bad must Betty feel at this moment, if I am feeling so ill? She must be feeling so alone with no one to care for her or explain why she was so sick. Poor Betty, she thought, as a tear leaked from the corner of her eye. She felt terribly frightened for her friend and guilty. How was she ever going to explain to Betty’s parents if Art was unable to save her?

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Chapter Four

It took some hard riding to get to Paul Tomas’ house. He had lost time getting Mickie to safety. Now he was racing to arrive before it was too late to catch Charlie. Art didn’t know what he was going to do if the monster wasn’t at the house. Where would he find his next clue? Closing his eyes, he shook his head. If he could find this one, he might be able to save Mickie. If there was truly a link between the two, and by killing the host before she drank blood, he might prevent her from turning. The main problem was he just didn’t know if the legends were fact or fiction. He did know for certain that once she drank blood it would be too late to save her. He didn’t know if any blood would cause the change, or if it had to be the vampire’s blood. But she hadn’t died yet, and that gave him hope that she would linger a while longer. Arriving at his destination, he tied up his horse and gathered his gear from the satchel attached to his saddle. It was a respectable cottage on the outskirt of town. He had been told he wouldn’t have any trouble spotting the house because the windows were painted black. The drunk in the pub that gave him the information had been correct. Taking out the crossbow, he notched an arrow then drew back the arrow to lock it in place. Placing a silver cross around his neck, he checked his sword for easy removal. Everything was as ready as he could make it. Hefting the bag over his shoulder, Art headed toward the house. Kicking in the front door, he began the search. He found Betty in a dark chamber in the cellar. She was, as he had feared a new fledgling. Betty hissed at him from the corner, then started to rise from her crouched position. She was hiding from the daylight rays that were coming in through a broken window. Being a number one real shit monster slayer was his self appointed position. He didn’t like the lonely life, but who was going to be willing to travel constantly with a slayer? “You must be Betty. You know that it is too late I cannot save you. Your friend Mickie is turning into a vampire also, but she turns slower. Why not tell me where he is hiding so I can save her.” 29

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She hissed. “He is not here. The buttard left me to defend for myself. Do you know how to help me?” “There is only one way to help. Death is all that waits you now.” “It hurts real bad. I want to kill because of the pain. I need to kill. Don’t know why.” “You don’t need to kill, you are craving food. You can live off animals without killing them.” “I want to kill.” He shook his head. “If you start killing I will hunt you down and kill you. I am giving you this chance because you are Mickie’s friend. You have one chance to remain alive. Do you want to live long enough to take it?” He didn’t know why he wanted to please Mickie. She had been nothing but a pain in his crotch since he had saved her. Betty stared at him without blinking for a long time. “Where is Mickie?” She said the name with longing in her dry raspy timbre. Her throat was dry; there was no doubt she craved. Her body would be a dry hungry shell until she fed. Why hadn’t she tried to leap for him? Ah yes, she must be attempting to merge with my mind. He should have guessed. Thankfully, most fledglings hadn’t acquired that ability. “When you bite you must stop drinking when the heart begins to slow. You will be able to tell when it happens.” “I can hear your heartbeat.” She leaned against the wall. “Where is Mickie?” “She is safe for the moment.” “He will find her. He was mad that she escaped.” “Do you want to protect her or are you only interested in beating him to her to make her a part of you.” “That is a tempting thought. We were close. It would make us like sisters. She did this to me you know.” Art shook his head. “It wasn’t her fault. She had no idea he was a vampire. Nor did she control your choice of companions. You made the decision to walk out of the house with him.” “How do you know?” “I saw you leave. I didn’t see her leave or I would have come sooner. I didn’t know the look of your vampire. I was searching for Paul.” “Yes, even in dying she chose wisely.” She chuckled in a raspy manner. “Good old Mickie always had it better than me. Did she tell you that part?” He shook his head. Keeping a close watch on her movements, he remained tense. If she was talking to catch him off guard, he intended to surprise her. 30

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“No she wouldn’t. It would probably never occur to her. She is sick. Slowly dying, she isn’t thinking about luck or bad fate at the moment. She is too sick to think. Did he give you blood?” “Yes, the last time he bit me, he dripped some from his wrist into my mouth. Foul tasting stuff. I find it hard to believe that is what I crave.” “Believe it. A normal animal’s blood will not taste the same as his.” “Or your blood?” He waved the crossbow in her direction. “Try anything and die.” “Yes, I can feel your intentions to kill me if I move. Why do you think I haven’t moved from this corner?” Her smile was an evil leer that revealed her emerging canines. Her teeth were growing. This must be one of the things paining her. “Are you going to tell me where Mickie is?” “No. Why not give her a chance to live?” “Why didn’t she give me one?” “You know she couldn’t protect you. She couldn’t protect herself.” “Why does it always have to be me?” “You have a new life now. You have the choice to take it such as it is, or die.” “Oh, I’ll take it.” She sounded so serious he was inclined to believe her. Still, she hadn’t given him any clues where to find her maker. “Look deep into your mind and tell me where the vampire has gone.” “I tell you I don’t know.” She hesitated, a smile spreading her lips, revealing the edges of her canines. “I see him. He is really close, in a dark cellar beneath the Cock Inn.” “Shit, he is probably after Mickie.” “Then you should go protect her. I will learn to adjust to this new life.” She chuckled harshly. “I may visit my horse when the sun sets.” Backing toward the door, he kept his eyes trained on her for the first sign that she was attempting to trick him. When she made no move against him, Art stopped just outside the open door. The crossbow trained on her heart the whole time. “Be kind and don’t visit your family. They will be told you are dead.” He hadn’t done her any favors by leaving her alive, but if he was to reach the Inn before dark, he had to kick his body in motion and run for his horse. He had no sooner thought the action that he was acting upon it. He raced down the hall, took the stairs two at a time, then burst through the entrance into the early afternoon sunlight. 31

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Sweeping his body up and onto his mount, he kept his eyes on the door. Kicking his mount, he set it into motion. He may not have the finances to keep Mickie in furs and diamonds, but he had allowed her friend to live. He felt as though he had made the correct decision. It was better that Mickie knew her friend was alive, at least in the vaguest sense as Betty was undead. Knowing her friends lived might be the string that Mickie’s life would dangle by. He would know that if Mickie died, he had given her every chance at survival. It had been a long day, and it was far from over, he thought as he turned his horse in the direction of the Cock Inn. At the Inn, he left his mount with the stable lad, withdrew his equipment, and started for the tavern entrance. If Charlie was here and seeking Mickie, she was in no condition to fight him. His long legs ate up the distance across the courtyard. Thrusting the door open, he hurried inside and kicked the door closed. He took the stairs two at a time, and then ran down the hall to the bedroom door before his room. Walking quietly, he approached the chamber door. It was open a crack. Swinging the door inward he prepared for the worst, seeing her lying on the bed dead and decapitated. What he found instead was an empty room. Hurrying into the room he searched for his bag of personal belongings he had left under the bed. Grasping the leather strap, he tugged it out and headed for the stairs. He knew the vampire wouldn’t remain in the Inn cellar, not after taking Mickie. The innkeeper was in the doorway of the taproom as he was hurrying down the steps. “Hey, did you see my woman leave?” “Your woman, his woman, who knows who is telling the truth.” “Listen, she is very ill.” “Yeah, yeah he said he was taking her to a physician.” “He is going to kill her. Did you see in which direction they went?” “Sure, they rode off on her horse toward the west.” Frowning, he followed Art toward the door. Now that was logical. Hurrying from the Inn, he tossed his bag over the horse’s rump and tied it in place. Mounting, he turned the horse toward the west. He didn’t care whom the horse belonged to that Charlie had stolen. He was fairly certain that the horse would be ridden hard and left to die when it could go no farther. All the pig had to do was give her some blood to speed up the process of her change. But that wasn’t this vampire’s way of handling things, and Art was glad. He had a feeling Charlie would want to flaunt his victory. The vampire would take her somewhere to torture her first. 32

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Make her his property for a while before he killed her or made her a fledgling. It would give him a little time to track them. Following their horse was not difficult; the hoof imprints were deeper in the dirt because of the two riders. The animal would not last long under the burden of their combined weight and being pushed at a fast pace. Art didn’t know why the vampire had an interest in this woman. She was attractive, but what was it about her that made her valuable enough to be worth dying over? That is a question to ponder, he thought. And he had plenty of time to consider the issue and speculate. He found the horse at dawn. The time pleased him. Now the vampire would have gone into hiding from the sunlight. If he could just find the woman while the vampire was weak during the daylight hours, it would make the kill much easier. He didn’t want to battle the full strength of the vampire if possible. He was still sore from the fight with Paul Tomas. Following footprints in the dark was difficult, but Art had gotten good at tracking since they had killed his sister. And finding the prints in daylight was not difficult. Charlie had taken to the air a time or two, but the leaps had been short. He suspected the lady was giving the vampire a difficult time. She may have just saved her life by being difficult this time. Art knew that she was tenacious. Memory of her determination to join him brought a smile to his lips. If she hadn’t been so determined, he may have spent months, even years tracking Charlie. With her as bait, although he hadn’t planned it, she had turned out to be exactly what he needed to bring this vampire within his grasp. Now he had to find their hiding spot. The tracks disappeared and he didn’t find them again. What he found was the mouth of a cave. Wrapping cloth around a stick, he made a torch. Then hoisting his gear onto his back and holding the crossbow in his hand, he entered the mouth of the cave. He moved slow checking shadows. About fifty yards in he found her lying on the ground, her arms and legs tied. From the look of her, tying had been unnecessary. Mickie was out of her head with fever. He searched to the end of the cave, but didn’t find Charlie. Returning to Mickie’s side, he kept a wary eye ahead as he sank down beside her. Shaking her shoulder he whispered, “Where is he?” “Who?” she mumbled. “Where is the vampire?” “Buried,” she murmured breathlessly. “I think I would have noticed an area of freshly turned soil. He is not buried.” “Buried,” she repeated. 33

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As it was daylight, he would be safe without his weapon once outside the cave. First, he had to get her to the opening without getting them both killed. He tossed her over his shoulder and held the crossbow across the back of her legs to assist his other hand. If she struggle something was going to fall, and it wasn’t going to be the crossbow. Surprising him, she lay limp across his shoulder. If she had fought the vampire enough to make him stop, she had progressed in her illness a lot since the night before. He laid her across the horse then climbed onto the saddle. Lifting her against his chest, he held her close, so he could canter the horse. Around noon, he found an old farmhouse. Banging his fist on the door and receiving no response, he kicked the door open and entered the rundown house. The smell of death hit his nostrils almost immediately. Holding Mickie cradled to his chest, he strode through the rooms looking for a bed. The first he found had a dead body lying on it. In a nightshirt, the man had his arms out flung, and his throat torn open. The vampire had passed this way, but had it been before or after he had abandoned her in the cave? Moving to the next room he found an empty bunk, the bed wasn’t large, but it would have to serve for them both. After placing Mickie on the bed, he returned to the first bedchamber and pulled the mattress from the house and across the back yard. He would set it on fire when they left, but he couldn’t risk the vampire spotting the fire. By the time he buried the old man it was dusk. Returning to the farmhouse, he lifted a bucket of cold water and carried it inside. Entering the bedroom, he stopped abruptly in the doorway. She lay nude on the bed, her clothing in a pile on the floor beside the bed. “Cannot say I blame you, I know you are hot, but woman you should give a man warning.” His eyebrow arched. “And now I’ve got to bath you down with cool water.” A smile spread his lips. Her nude body was what every male longed to have in his bed. Not to skinny to be bony, enough flesh in all the right places to give some well-defined, soft curves. Whistling softly, he advanced to the bed. It was no hardship at all stroking cool water over her hot flesh. Although her moans of pleasure were driving him out of this mind. His body was so hard he had been forced to open his breeches. That hadn’t been a real hardship either, especially when she flopped her hand onto his shaft. His breath locked in his chest. It had been a while since he had been with a woman, and this one had a strange appeal for him anyway. He looked at her hand lying there, innocently touching his throbbing shaft. Lifted his eyes to the soft globes of her breasts, the dusty rose nipples smooth against the white flesh, his knee 34

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started shaking from tension, the jarring vibrated his cock against her soft flesh. “Bloody Hell.” He practically leapt from the bed. Rubbing his hand over his chin, he drew in a few ragged breaths. The shaking of his leg was from a nervous habit he had from his youth. Not a problem or even something he would notice normally. However, when a soft hand was lying against your hard cock and your leg was bouncing, well hell, he could have easily masturbated in a very short time. Wrapping his arms across his chest, he locked his hands to his side. He wanted to sink into her heat. She had a lovely face and a body that was perfect for fulfilling his sexual desires. Even with dirty, wrinkled clothes and blood across the breast, she had aroused him. She was sick. This is not the time to be thinking of sex, he thought and shock his head. He refused to look at her until he had his body under control. He had gone months without a woman when necessary, and he had never been this turned on when he finally had a willing one in his arms. This time it had only been a few weeks, besides, she wasn’t willing—she wasn’t even aware. Mickie was sick, her body was fighting for life, the last thing she needed was him stimulating her. Hold on. The thought gave him pause; stimulated her body would be making it work harder, right? Faster pulse—faster breaths, it might even help. You are such a pig, Arthur Start. You are just trying to think up an excuse to fuck her. Yeah, but it might help, and if it doesn’t what would it hurt? He was talking back and forth to himself as he did when he was studying a problem. It never hurt to consider both sides of an issue. So, his moral conscious was making its point, while his randy self was thinking of ways around it. No, not unless she asks. I will not poke a woman that doesn’t know what she is doing. Firmly he made his decision final. Turning to face the bed, seeing her lying with her legs slightly parted and her arms outstretched, she looked as though she were waiting on him to join her in sexual play. Sighing, he moved to the bed and spread his blanket over her tempting body. Sitting beside the bed, he spoke softly to her, encouraging her to fight the infection. He parted her lips and squeezed a few drop of water into her mouth. Then waited until she swallowed before repeated the process. He had never nursed a sick woman before. He had only heard of it being done. Raking Mickie’s ash-brown hair from her face, he studied her features. She was really something. She had delicate features, and deep violet eyes that made him feel as though he were under a spell when he looked deeply into them. At the moment, she had a dreamy unfocused expression in her eyes when they looked at him. Helpless and needing him must be what he was looking for in a woman, because he had never felt these wrenching emotions for a woman before. 35

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Her lips were slightly parted as though waiting for a kiss, and he longed to ravage her mouth. However, they were dry from the fever, a reminder that she was sick and needed care more than kisses. He brushed the back of his fingers across her soft cheek, blushed from the fever. He would love to see that flush when she was healthy and know that he was the cause. When he had done all he could, he lay down on the bed beside her, to be close if she needed him, and to rest. Around dawn, she started shaking, burning up with the fever. Biting his lips, he forced her to keep the blanket over her as she struggled to toss it off. When the first rays of sunshine brightened the sky, he removed his clothing and joined her beneath the blanket. Sweet stars she was hot. Shifting her onto his body, he held her to his chest. Knowing they were safe from the vampire for a few hours, he drifted into sleep. Moaning, he awoke to the most delicious sensations of her kissing and stroking his body. He struggled not to awaken and destroy the dream, but it persisted. Soft hair rubbed against his cock, a slick leg slid over his thigh, fingernails raked his nipple. Opening his eyes he realized it wasn’t a dream. She was loving his body! Not moving, he stared at the ceiling. If she didn’t know he was awake—if he didn’t respond, maybe she would stop. Crawling up his body, her soft pubic hairs stroked up his cock until it sprang free behind her buttocks, she shifted and he was positioned against the hot opening of her sheath. She moaned, lifted her face, and covered his mouth with hers. “Show me,” she pleaded against his mouth. “You’re too sick.” “If I am going to die, I want to have been loved first.” She pressed her lips to his, stroking them gently. Then she wiggled her torso, raking her breasts across his chest, and brushing the head of his cock with her labia. “I need this. Please. I know I’m not your wife, but just this once couldn’t you forget?” Great stars, she thinks I’m being loyal to a wife? “You could turn and I will be forced to kill you. I cannot become involved with you, or I might not be able to do what is necessary if the time comes.” “Just this once. I won’t expect a declaration of love.” She nipped his nipple, and it forced him into action. Wrapping her in his arms, he rolled her beneath him. Reaching out he grabbed his shirt. “Give me your hands.” Complying, she wiggled her little cunt beneath his cock and growled in pleasure. He tied her hands together while she watched. “What are you doing?” 36

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“I don’t know if you have changed or if you are well, but I’m not taking any risks.” She giggled. “Scared?” “Yeah, real scared. No biting or I will punch you.” “Umm, so romantic. I can see the ladies must line up to be loved by you.” “You did, and that is all that matters right now.” Holding her arms over her head, he began raking his hand over her soft breasts. He wanted that nipple in his mouth. As it puffed up he leaned down to suckle it. Groaning she bucked her pelvis against his. “Soon, let me savor for a minute.” He took much more than a minute. He wanted this too badly for it to be over in a few minutes. He slipped up and down her body, licking and tasting her flesh. She tried to stop him when he kissed down her labia, until he slipped his tongue in and flicked her clit. Gasping, her body froze as though she were afraid to move. Smiling, he worked her body until she was a quiver wanton begging to be loved. Growling with triumphant he sank his shaft into her succulent heat. Her cry of pain startled him. “Did I hurt you?” “No, I expected it to hurt though.” He chuckled. “Sorry I’m not laughing at you, just relieved. What did you do to prevent the vampire from taking you?” “I don’t know, maybe I didn’t appeal to him,” breathlessly she replied. “Most definitely you did. He wasn’t willing to give you up, remember.” Slowly he withdrew and slid back into the heated cavern. “Ahh, let’s drop the subject. I want to concentrate on how wonderful you feel.” Dropping his head to her shoulder, he nuzzled her neck. His cock was demanding he move faster, but he resisted, savoring her sweet heated muscles around him, and her body beneath him. Taking full advantage of her tied hands, he sucked her soft globes into his mouth and suckled, making her gasp and moan. His deep thrusts made her groan, he hoped in pleasure for she didn’t complain. “Why must my hands be tied?” “I don’t want you to draw blood.” “You are the one that did that.” “So I did.” Smiling, he raised above her to gaze into her dark eyes. They looked clear, and she appeared totally lucid. There was no reason to believe she didn’t know exactly what she was doing. 37

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The driving need in his body grew more intense with each thrust of his pelvis against hers. Fast and harder he drove against her, he felt wild, his body was trying to rage out of control, but he was leashing it in, waiting on her. When she gasped and began bucking harder beneath him, he knew her body was spiraling toward release. “Let it go, Mickie. Relax and let it take you.” Heeding his words, she spasms around him and cried out in a silent breath. Her voice deserting her as she shook and her muscles throbbed around his engorged shaft. Releasing his control, Art thrust in deep and allowed his seeded to spew within her against her womb. Panting, he chuckled, rejoicing, and pecked kisses over her face. He wasn’t comfortable with kissing her mouth; still he had a need to express his pleasure. “That was wonderful.” A frown wrinkled her smooth brow. “Is something wrong?” “Did you just put your seed in me?” “Ah, yeah, sorry.” “Sorry? Do you know my father will kill me if I return home with your babe in me?” “Your father will be so glad you are alive he won’t care.” “Yes, I suppose you are right, still it is no excuse.” Lifting her hands, she gazed into his eyes. “Can you release my hands now?” “Only if you will promise to touch me without scratching.” “You really are frightened.” Shock was clear in her timbre. She had believed he was teasing. “If you remembered how sick you have been, you would be too. For a while I thought I was going to lose you.” Untying her wrists, he gathered her to him and held her through the daylight hours, stroking her body while she napped and rested to regain her strength. When the room started to grow dark, he had an ominous feeling that they had to get out of the house. Some special sense warned him that the vampire knew where they were hiding. “He will be coming tonight. We must get outside and prepare for his arrival.” He began gathering his things while she slipped on her tapered gown.

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Chapter Five

They left the house, and Art fetched his horse and then they walked into the trees. Mickie was relieved that they were walking. She didn’t know if riding would make her crotch tender after the pounding Art had given her. It had been beyond anything she had ever imagined. All of her life she had been told that it would be her duty to lay with her husband. No one, not once had ever said it would be a pleasure she would share with her husband. She allowed that there were men that probably treated their mistress better than they treated their wives, but surely they were not all like that. A few had to make their wives happy. Although she knew that her husband might resent that she had lain with another man, and he might hold it against her. She lifted her chin. It didn’t matter, she might still die, and she didn’t want to die without knowing what it was like. Of course, when she awoke she had never felt such wonderful sensation in her skin as when she felt Art’s nude flesh against her body. It would be fair to say she had awoken aroused from touching his flesh while sleeping. All she knew for certain was that she had wanted more of those sensations, and she was willing to do anything he wanted to get them. If that made her wanton then so be it, she wouldn’t have missed a moment of it. Now she was wondering how often people, married people she supposed, had intimate relations. Would it be too suggestive of her wanton nature if she asked Art? After all, he wasn’t her beau, not that she would object if he were. He was too masculine to be called beautiful, his features were bold, his eyebrows were dark over intense aqua eyes, with a straight nose, and a definite outline to his plump lips, but she liked the secure feeling he gave her. He had more muscle than the average gentleman did. Fighting that vampire he had gotten in some good punches. She knew she could trust him with her life and her body. He had proved that when she had been forced to beg him to make love to her. “How far must we go before we will be safe?” Tilting her chin, she looked up at him wondering if it had been a lack of desire that had made him slow to make love to her, or perhaps it had been honor? Darn. Another question that only he could answer. 39

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“We will never be safe from him until he is dead.” “Oh.” That wasn’t exactly the answer she had been hoping to hear. “How are you feeling? Any unusual thoughts entering your head--like wanting to kill me?” “No silly. You don’t have to do that, make jokes. I am all right with what we did. I wanted to make love before I died.” “What if you don’t die?” “We all will eventually,” she reasoned. “I meant when you decide to marry,” dryly he corrected. “Are you going to hate me then?” Smiling a little sad, she shook her head. No promises had passed between them. “If he cares for me he won’t care that I’ve been with someone. I doubt he will be innocent.” “True, but men are not always as forgiving as women.” She chose to remain silent, as she couldn’t argue with his summation. They walked for a while, and then Art insisted that she ride. “You are still weak.” Mickie sighed. “I wish I could argue that I feel fine, but it would be a lie.” “Nothing to be ashamed of. Your body is going through a lot.” She giggled as he helped her onto the horse. Mickie wiggled into a comfortable position. “I feared it would hurt to sit.” He flashed a grin that revealed even white teeth. It was a real charmer of a smile, and made goose bumps rise on her skin. “I’m glad it doesn’t hurt.” “How often do people do that? I mean married people.” “All the time.” Feeling frustrated by his answer, she closed her eyes. “I would like a more specific answer, once a week, once a month, two months, six?” His smile widened. “Once a day usually. Sometimes more.” Her mouth fell open. “No fooling?” “No fooling.” Leading the horse, he faced forward to watch where he was guiding the animal. “I know you didn’t want to today, and I appreciate that you did anyway. I guess it was the thought of dying,” she lied. “Does a person only want to be with someone they love? I mean normally.” “You’re wrong, I wanted to bad, but you were sick. I didn’t think I should.” “I’m glad you changed your mind.” 40

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“As for the love thing. Once a body is in love, I hear you only want that one person. Before you fall in love you can be attracted to many people.” “So it’s all right that I am attracted to you, and want to be with you? I don’t think I’m in love, but I do have a huge hero worship going on. I wonder why no one ever made me feel those feelings of longing before?” she wondered aloud. “Never?” Grinning he shook his head. “Women are so different from men. I will never understand them.” He slowed to walk by her side. “I’ll admit I have wanted a man or two to kiss me before, but I never wanted anyone to touch me.” “Hum.” “Does that mean you approve? My father always makes that sound when he approves of something mother suggests.” “It wasn’t a decision. It was a comment.” “You are my knight on a steed.” A grin softened his face. “Your flirting is going to my head.” She chuckled. “I know nothing about you. Tell me about yourself.” He shrugged. “Nothing much to tell. I used to live in Sussex. A vampire killed my sister. Now I travel around seeking them. When I get the last, I will return to my home and assume my life.” “What is your home like? Are we going to go by there? We are in Sussex right?” “My home is like any other. I run my property. Take care of my tenants and they take care of me.” “Tenants? Then you have an estate? Do you also have a title? Would I have heard of you?” “Obviously you haven’t heard of me. Yes, I have a title. Yes, I have an estate that is being neglected while I roam the countryside. I will probably be a pauper by the time I return home.” Tilting her head, she studied him. “If that happens you won’t stay down long. You are a fighter, and I’m guessing you tackle a challenge with determination until you succeed. I am sorry about your sister. Did they make her a vampire?” “You ask a lot of questions,” his harsh tone revealed his emotional reaction to talking about his sister. “Did she die from the infection?” “Yes. Tell me about your life?”

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“Nothing much to tell. I live with my parents. I slipped out to take Betty to that party because her parents never allow her any privacy or fun. I was trying to help, and now I have ruined her life. Did you find her?” “You were telling me about yourself.” He avoided answering. “Did you kill Betty?” “No, I didn’t kill her,” he snapped. “Is she one of them now, a vampire?” “Yes.” “So I ruined her life.” “It wasn’t your fault. You had no way of knowing vampires were going to kidnap the two of you.” Sighing heavily, she scanned the view, her gaze slipped over the trees and bushes covering the rolling hills. “I carry food to the poor in our parish, that’s about all. Ride my horse.” Her voice cracked. “My parents want me to accept an offer of marriage I received for Lord Fitzhew.” “Crisdom? He is as old as time.” His dark eyebrows arched. “My feeling also. I cannot imagine doing with him what we did. My skin crawls when he touches me.” “Then I recommend that you refuse his offer.” It made his jaw muscles ache from tension to think of another man touching her. Her shoulders slumped. “I have to marry. My parents don’t have the funds to pay for another season. If I don’t receive another offer, I will be forced to accept his offer.” “Then I will offer for you.” Mickie’s heart leapt in her chest. She would be thrilled to be his wife, but she knew he wasn’t serious. “Funny. Where are we going?” “We will keep moving through the night and rest during the day.” “How are we going to find him, if we are running from him?” “He is looking for us remember?” “Oh, then shouldn’t we be planning on how to kill him? Maybe set a trap?” “I’m open for suggestions.” “The church. If we could get him in a church.” “You gonna kill in a church?” “Um, I see what you mean. Not a good idea. All right what are we going to do?” “We are going to go out in the middle of nowhere, where there is no place for him to hide during the day.” “But he can fly.” 42

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“Hum.” He nodded. “I am counting on him wanting to catch us. It is my guess that he will dig himself a burrow and hid under ground during the day.” “How are we going to find him?” “I have no idea.” Stopping the horse, he turned to her. “Ready to walk for a while?” “Yes.” Grasping her waist, he slid her to the ground between his body and the horse. She brushed against both. Releasing her, he took her hand and held it. She walked at his side, holding his hand while he led the horse on his far side. It was such an intimate thing holding hands in the dark. They walked in silence, Mickie trying to think of some way to trap the vampire. At her side, she assumed the same subject was occupying Art’s mind. They came across an old barn in the middle of the nowhere he had mentioned. Art stopped at the edge of the clearing near the barn, set her back upon the saddle, and instructed her to wait. “If anything happens to me, you ride like hell to get as far away from here as you can.” He spoke softly so his words wouldn’t carry in the silence of the night. “Do you think he might be here?” “It’s possible.” “Why?” “This is my land.” “Oh.” It made sense that the vampire would look for him on his land. “So why did we come here?” “Because it is out in the middle of nowhere.” He patted her thigh, and then strolled into the clearing. His long stride crossed the open land quickly to the barn. When he disappeared into the dark interior, she held her breath, listening for noises that would indicate that he was in trouble. It seemed as though she waited forever. She might not be as frightened as she had been while a prisoner of the vampires, but she was frightened. Finally, he stepped from the barn and indicated for her to advance. She rode the horse into the barn, and he closed the door. “If he goes to ground in this barn, we should be able to find him.” “Can he fight during the day?” “Oh yes. He is still strong during the day. He merely doesn’t have an option of running away, he has to stay and fight, or die.”

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Sliding her from the saddle, he turned her in the direction to the back stall. A light layer of straw covered the floor, and she stood in the middle waiting for him to give her instructions. “This stall should be one of the safest because that window gets the morning light.” He led the horse to the center aisle and tied it to the railing. “Those doors lead to the corral in back. Come morning, the horse can be put out there. However, if he comes, it will still be dark, and we have to stay alive until daylight.” He opened his pack, withdrew a pistol, and thrust it at her. “Take this, point it at his chest and pull the trigger. No matter what, you do not look in his eyes. It is more difficult to pull the trigger after looking into someone’s eyes. The bullets are silver, it won’t kill him, but it will slow him down.” He removed his crossbow and sword and carried them to different corners of the stall, and then leaned in the corner beside the crossbow. “Stand in the back corner.” Doing as instructed, she clutched the pistol in her hands and backed into the corner. They waited in silence for the vampire to arrive. He moved on silent feet into the open doorway of the barn. Mickie saw the vampire’s shadow and pointed toward it, hoping Art saw because she was too afraid to speak. She didn’t want to make any noise that would give away their location. Art lifted the crossbow and watched the shadow moving into the barn. Charlie advanced in their direction. His steps silent, he was a natural predator. He leapt, soaring over the railing of the stall and landed in the straw before them. Mickie was so frightened, she wasn’t certain she would be able to force her limbs to move. An arrow swooshed from the crossbow, Art was going straight for the attack. The arrow lodged in the vampire’s shoulder. A cry of rage accompanied the impact of the wood into Charlie’s shoulder. Ripping the arrow from his shoulder, Charlie flew at Art. Meanwhile, Art had notched another arrow. This one hit the vampire’s stomach. Cursing, Charlie tugged the wood from his flesh, continuing to advance toward Art. Art ran, skirting the vampire, and jumped to the far side where his sword lay. Grasping it up he held it before him, in a position of one ready for an attack. “Now!” Art commanded. Now? He hadn’t told her to shoot on his command. She wasn’t prepared. Charlie laughed. “You see slayer. My slave cannot kill me.” Ignoring her, he stalked slowly toward Art. “Shoot, Mickie,” Art said in an encouraging timbre. He was worrying that she would totally fail him. He would be trapped in a stall with a vampire and he would be 44

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forced to protect her too. He had reason to be worried. He kept his eyes on the vampire. “Pull the trigger, Mickie.” She pointed the pistol at Charlie’s chest and pulled the trigger. The pistol was wrenched from her hand, and it flew up in the air before landing on the floor. Horrified that she had failed Art, her gaze searched the straw bedding for the pistol. It was worthless though, only one shot. He should have given me two pistols, she thought. Raising her eyes she looked at Charlie, he hadn’t cried out, so she knew she had missed. He stood with his hand to his chest. Pulling it away, she saw the dark stain of blood on his shirt. She had shot him. She felt sick, like she was going to vomit. “You cannot disobey a command. How could you shoot me?” “I knew a bullet wouldn’t kill you.” He snarled at her and advanced on Art again. Swinging the sword, Art’s blow was blocked by the vampires arm. Blood dripped from his arm as he grasped the sword, wrenched it from Art’s hand, and tossed it across the stall. Mickie’s gaze followed the sword. She knew exactly where it landed on the straw with a thud. No, the thuds were sounds of fists hitting. Swinging her gaze back to the men, she watched as Art bounced off the wall from the impact of Charlie’s fist. Art swung his fist and connected with Charlie’s chest where the bullet had entered. The vampire grunted, but swung his fist anyway. Now she understood his plan, Art was planning to attack the vampire’s injuries. But the vampire was still too strong. Easing around the fighting men, she picked up the sword. Charlie said she couldn’t kill him, she didn’t know if he had that kind of control over her. Art had said a fledgling had no control. Was she a fledgling? No, I am not a vampire. Lifting the sword, she swung it against the vampire’s shoulder. It was like hitting a rock, the sword bounded off. Charlie twisted toward her with a snarl, and immediately turned back to block Art’s blow. Art was punched and he staggered backward. Tears of fear filled Mickie’s eyes. She could tell that Art’s blows were not making enough impact against the vampire, but Charlie’s blows were taking a toll on Art. Seeing blood on the vampire’s shoulder where she had hit, she noticed he wasn’t swing that arm as much as the other. Moving behind Charlie, she lifted the sword and brought it down on the vampire’s uninjured shoulder. Hissing, Charlie twisted and threw a punch at her. He missed, because the impact with his shoulder had thrown her back several stumbling steps. 45

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Art distracted him, drawing his attention with another punch to Charlie’s chest. Biting her bottom lip, she looked at Charlie’s strong back, looking for a spot to injure him. Swinging the sword, she hit his side. Stumbling backward, Art protected her by drawing the vampire’s rage onto him. Art was taking a severe beating, and he had to be in terrible pain, she had to help him. Her arms were already aching from the impacts with the hard torso of the vampire. Swinging the sword, she hit Charlie's opposite side. It seemed each time she hit him, he threw more powerful punches against Art’s poor battered body. Charlie was losing blood from all the wounds she had inflicted. Still, she needed to cut him more. She came up under his arm and cut into his armpit. That should slow his punches. While Charlie was delivering a blow to Art, she came up under his other arm. He howled in pain. His blows were slower; he seemed to be having difficulty now. Good, now what? She swung and hit Charlie’s thighs. Blood was leaking from him everywhere. His movements were slower. His blows were lighter. Unfortunately, poor Art was staggering. His punches were slow. It was clear Art was struggling to maintain his feet. Stars, I have to do better, or Art is going to die, she thought. The thought of her knight dying brought tears of rage to her eyes. She brought the sword up between Charlie’s thighs. Roaring the vampire fell to his knees. “Toss me the sword.” Panting heavily, Art managed to say. She threw it, and he caught it then swung for Charlie’s head. The sword cut into the vampire’s throat, severing his head. Mickie vomited. Art fell to the ground, holding the sword between his arms, panting for breath. “Thank you. I knew I could count on you.” “I never thought of hitting his neck. Sorry.” Wiping her mouth, she turned to Art. The sun wasn’t up, but the barn was lighter, so she knew the sun would be coming soon. “If you were under his control you couldn’t have killed him. So, you wouldn’t have been able to strike his neck. You scared me for a minute there. I thought you weren’t going to shoot.” “Sorry. I wasn’t prepared.” “Do you think you could help me to the horse? I believe I need some aide.” 46

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Moving to his side, she helped him drag his battered body up the wall. “Wait, let me bring the horse in.” Fetching the horse, she stood behind him, helping him not to fall while he dragged his body onto the horse. He leaned forward, looking ready to fall. “Hold on.” Taking the leathers, she guided the horse from the barn. Looking over her shoulder, she watched him hoping he could stay in the saddle. The sun brightened the sky, and she was able to see Art’s battered and bloody face. “Which way to your home?” “Left, follow the road.” He swayed dangerously, and she feared he would fall. “Lay over the horse and hold on Art,” she pleaded. She guided the horse up the road, afraid to walk it fast from fear that he would fall to the ground. If he died she was going to loose her knight, and she didn’t want to lose him. Tears filled her eyes when the mansion came into view. “You live in a mansion. I should have guessed.” A footman opened the door as they crossed the courtyard to the steps. “This is Art, he is hurt bad and needs help,” she called. The servant ducked back into the house, then came hurrying out, several men followed. They ran down the steps and hauled Art from the saddle. His moans of pain tore at her heart. “Please be gentle.” “What happened? He appears to have been beaten.” “He was, but the other guy looks worse.” Following them up the steps, she entered the house. It never occurred to her that she shouldn’t follow to Art’s bedchamber. She went in with the servants and fussed when they dropped him onto the bed. “Are you trying to kill him? Get me some hot water and rags. Brandy or whatever you have that is strong. Rags and salve for his wounds.” The servants hurried to do her bidding. She cleaned the wounds with the Brandy as the footman, porter, and butler stood over her watching. She soothed his brow with cool water, and ordered the servants to strip him. They argued about propriety, but eventually removed his shirt. She felt his ribs and no one protested. “I don’t think they are broken.” “I will stay with him miss, if you would care to wait in the parlor,” the porter urged. “No, I’ll stay with him. I could use some food though. I am starving, and something to drink, tea if you have it.” “Yes miss. Might I inquire who you are?” 47

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She glared at the servant. “I am Mickie Willis, your master saved my life.” “I’m glad he did, miss.” All but the porter departed. When Art stirred, he moaned in pain, and she dribbled brandy into his mouth. His hands were bloodied, as was his face, he had taken a terrible beating. She sat with him all night, speaking softly to him when he awoke. She was sleeping in the chair, the porter sat on the opposite side of the bed snoring when Art opened his eyes. Seeing Mickie, he smiled then grunted. The porter snapped awake. “Is there anything I can do for you, milord?” Lifting a bandaged hand, Art gazed at it. “Take care of my lady.” “Yes, my lord. We are trying, but the stubborn lass refuses to leave your side.” “She saved my life.” A smile tugging his lips, and Art drifted back to sleep. When Mickie awoke the servants were there to cater to her every need. The housekeeper took her to a room where fresh, clean clothes waited, and a hot bath. After cleaning up, she returned to Art’s side, and a breakfast tray was delivered. “Anything else we can do for you, miss?” “I need to send a missive to my parents.” Paper and ink was fetched for her, and the porter promised to deliver the message personally to her parents. Two days later, her parents arrived with the porter. She hated to leave Art’s side but she had to visit with her parents. Her weeping mother, Mary hugged her, and then her father John enclosed her in a bear hug. “We feared we would never see you again.” Tearfully her mother explained. Her pale yellow traveling gown didn’t help her pale complexion or red puffy eyes. If it weren’t for Mary’s brown hair, she would look like a ghost. Her father was pale from the stress he had endured, but his black hair and blue eyes gleamed. Always dressed in black with white shirt, the only variance he allowed was the color of his waistcoats. John preferred for things to remain the same. “Your note said you were kidnapped. How did you end up here?” John demanded in a stressed timbre. “Come into the parlor and I will tell you everything that happened. I must warn you that it will be difficult to believe.” They retired to the parlor decorated in browns and greens. Once seated on the hard settee and side chairs, she explained that a man who turned out to be a vampire had kidnapped her, but Art had managed to save her. The worse was telling them that Betty was dead. 48

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“My dear you were drugged, there is no such thing as a vampire,” Mary soothed. The door opened and the hall porter stepped into the parlor. “Lord Hawkridge is awake, miss. He is asking for you.” “Thank you, Mr. Kerr.” She turned to her mother. “I must go to him.” “My dear, he is in his chambers,” Mary protested. Her mother expected the reminder to be enough to dissuade her. It had worked in the past to keep her daughters in line. Mary had every reason to believe that it would bring the same results now. Her mother was such a simple person. Softly as though explaining to a child she tried to make her feelings understood. “Mother, I have sat with him in his chambers for two days and nights. He is too injured to harm me in any way.” Rising she moved to the door. Leaving her parents to enjoy tea, she asked the porter to provide them with rooms. “As you wish, miss. The things your parents brought for you are in your chamber.” Mr. Kerr was the hall porter that had first come to her assistance with Art. She respected his quick response and loyalty to his employer. “Thank you. Would you send up some tea?” Opening Art’s bedroom door, she stepped inside. The housemaid that had been sitting with him rose and curtsied, then scooted from the room. Smiling at Art, she moved to his side. “My parents are here. I sent word that Betty is dead to her parents. I don’t know how we will ever be able to make the sheriff believe our story. I thought it was best to tell her family that she fell from a horse instead of the truth. They wouldn’t believe it. My parents think I was drugged and dreamed the whole thing. How are you feeling today?” She rattled on with information she thought he would be interested in that would keep him apprise of what was happening. “I hurt,” he whispered between swollen and split lips. “Is there anything I can do for you? I know it hurts to talk, but if you can manage to tell me what you need.” “Talk to me.” Mickie sat at his side, touching and stroking his arm, because his hands were injured and painful, telling him about her parents and her childhood. She told him about her friendship with Betty. “Do you think she will be all right? “Yes.” Ignoring her parents’ protests, she continued to take her meals in Art’s room. They finally got the message and joined her in his bedchamber after dinner. At nine that 49

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night, Mary insisted that Mickie retire. Art backed up her parent’s decision, and she had no choice but to leave him. The following morning he was much improved. He was able to talk as long as he didn’t move his face much. His bruises were black, his face swollen, he looked as bad as he felt. “Your daughter saved my life, did she tell you?” Art addressed her parents, speaking through lips that barely moved. “No, she didn’t. You mean by nursing you?” “No, by swinging a sword then bringing my battered body home.” “Swinging a sword?” her mother gasped. “It’s a long story mother,” Mickie injected, feeling uncomfortable about being the center of attention. “I believe we have time,” John informed her. So, she told them all that had transpired, except sleeping with Art. She knew they didn’t believe she had been battling a vampire, but she told them anyway.

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Chapter Six

The next morning Art was able to join them at the breakfast table. He was still badly bruised, and his cuts were bandage, but he was able to move slowly, and talk carefully. “I wish your daughter’s hand in marriage.” He announced to the table in a soft timbre, once he was seated. She had just taken a bite of food or she would have protested immediately. Instead, she sputtered and choked. Everyone ignored her. “We can discuss it,” John stated in his stern tone of authority. “Mickie’s reputation has been compromised,” Mary stated in a sad yet understanding tone, as thought they needed reminding. “That is not his fault mother. Art saved my life.” Her throat finally clear, Mickie defended him while giving him a warning stare. “He didn’t compromise me.” “Indeed, we aren’t blaming Arthur,” John injected. “No? Well it sounds as though you want him to assume the responsibility for my ruined reputation. If I am shunned merely because I was kidnapped then they were never my friends. I shall go to the country and forget the whole thing.” “Dear, you know how society is. The reason is not important, the fact remains that you were alone with a man overnight. Even in the country that matters.” “He cared for me while I was burning with fever. I sat in his chambers beside his bed while he was hurt. That should not be used as a reason to ostracize me.” “I understand what you are saying, but the fact remains, you were without a chaperone during those times that only a husband or wife should be present,” John demurred. Art nodded. “Much happened. Mickie saved my life, I saved her life, and we are even.” He spoke to her father, and then turned his attention to her. “I thought you were turning into a vampire, so I couldn’t get involved. But I sank under your charming spell anyway.” He tried to smile then flinched. “See my dear, he has formed a tender for you.” Mary encouraged her to cooperate. 51

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“I think in your weakened condition you have fallen victim to Mickie’s drugged dreams of vampires. She has planted these thoughts in your mind.” John injected. Art continued as though her father hadn’t spoken. “I didn’t kill that female vampire because of you. You know I still may be forced to seek her out?” She nodded. He had explained and she understood that if Betty started killing he would be forced to kill her. “I know I was cold, but I was afraid I was going to have to kill you.” “You would have killed me?” she squeaked through her strangled throat. “I would have been forced to if you started killing,” he spoke in a cajoling tone. His sad eye asked for her understanding. “I see.” Angrily she started eating her food, stabbing her silverware into the contents on her plate. “I don’t care if you do hate me, you are going to marry me.” His deep timbre switched for cajoling to determined. Her eyebrow arched. “Do not take that attitude with me.” “Damn, I know you care. You may not love me, but you like me better than Fitzhew.” “That is no reason to marry you,” Mickie stressed, anger in her tone. He sighed heavily. His hard warning gaze settled on her, and then shifted to her father. “I think you should reconsider.” He made it clear with the glance at her father that he was warning her, he would tell they had slept together if forced. “Forget it.” Lifting her chin, she met Art’s gaze with a challenge. She would show him, he couldn’t calmly claim he would kill her, even if she were a vampire, and then expect her to accept him as her husband. “I believe this should be discussed,” her father protested. John was watching Art with a frowning expression. Their talk of vampires would be making her father wonder if Art had foster the vampire tale while she had been in shock from the kidnapping, or if they had both gone insane. Art covered her hand with his bandaged one. “Do you want to discuss this with your parents?” “Leave my parents out of this.” “Perhaps we should include your parents and allow them to decide? It is an important decision and you have been through an unnerving experience. It may not be wise to leave an important decision in your hands at this time.” “I cannot believe that you would threaten me.” She hesitated for a minute, and then lowered her head and mumbled. “My knight is getting awful rusty.” She was getting 52

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angrier by the moment. That he would ask for her hand made her heart sing, but the way he was doing it was making her furious. “Vampires indeed.” John snorted. “This won’t do. Young man, have you taken leave of your common sense?” “Stay out of this father.” “I was not threatening you, sweetheart,” Art vowed. “I want to marry you.” “Can we discuss this later?” “If you have something you dislike about me then you should say. Personally, I can think of anything I have done wrong. I am an upstanding fellow and you should consider marrying me, while the decision is still yours to make.” Mickie gasped. “Oh, how dare you? Threatening me is as wrong as the kidnapping,” she snapped at him. “How can you calmly sit there and say you have done nothing wrong?” Art gazed at her with a twinkle of pleasure in his eyes. Plus the total silence in the room gave her a moment to realize what she had said was compromising. “Oh dear. This will not do.” Her mother assumed control, while her father stared at her with his mouth hanging open from shock. “I quite agree.” Art smiled then groaned. “I probably should have taken the escape Mickie offered, she will probably make me suffer more than I am now, but she will wed me.” “Probably,” she promised. “You don’t know the meaning of suffering if you continue with this.” “I know you care for me. However, you seem to have difficulty admitting it.” “I….” Why was she being stubborn? She was thrilled that he wanted to wed her. “No, you will not wed my daughter. You have saved her life and we are in your debt. However, there is obviously something strange about you, this vampire business no doubt, or Mickie would not find you objectionable, which makes marriage impossible.” Art stiffened, a deep red tint outlining his bruised and batter continence. His eyes never leaving her face, she had to lower her gaze in shame. She couldn’t allow Art to accept the blame after he had saved her life. “He is not to blame. I seduced Art. He is only trying to do what is right.” Her parents stared at her with stunned expressions. Her father recovered first. “You expect me to believe you knew how to seduce a man?” John demanded in an outraged tone. “You must wed immediately,” Mary injected, forcing a smile. Her mother disliked, any form of conflict and was attempting to lighten the atmosphere. 53

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“Now look what you made me do?” She glared at Art. “Are you going to fight all the time?” Mary asked with a troubled expression. “Probably. Can we wait until my face is healed to have a full discussion?” “I agree with Art, the subject is closed until he is healed,” Mickie decreed. Her father watched her with a considering expression. After the meal was over, he strolled up to Art and gently shook his hand. “Welcome to the family, son.” “Father!” “We are leaving, now,” he decreed in an authoritative tone, and then strode from the room. Mickie and Mary hurried after him. They were accustomed to this side of her father’s nature. He could not be swayed until he was sweetened first by pacifying him. Pausing in the hall, Mickie turned around and hurried back to Art. He had an amused expression on his poor face. Spreading her hands over his chest, she stretched up to kiss his cheek. He leaned down to make it possible for her to reach him. His gaze rested on something beyond her head. “You rest and get well. Don’t worry about father. Once he calms I will be able to talk to him.” She pressed another peck on his cheek then turned. Her parents had stopped to watch the exchange. Art watched her father over Mickie’s head. John’s gazed shifted from Mickie to him. It was clear her father understood the meanings of her actions. She had sided with him in the breakfast room, which meant she would support his decisions and him should the need ever arise. Her defense of his honor revealed that she cared for him, although she hadn’t admitted to having those feelings. Obviously John’s ego had been pricked, he didn’t like learning that his daughter was shifting her allegiance to another, therefore, her father had demanded that their departure be immediate. Accustomed to having the adoration of Mickie, John was demonstrating that although Mickie’s loyalty had leaned in Art’s direction, it had been temporary. John wanted Art to know that as her father he truly had the power to claim her affections. Then flaunting her father’s command she had turned back to speak with him. Watching John over Mickie’s head their gazes locked. While her parents watched, she touched his chest and kissed his willing cheek, which he was glad to lean down and present. Her father stared into his eyes for a long moment, and then he slowly dipped his head in acknowledgment. Art knew that moment had settled the decision in her father’s mind. He would be granted Mickie’s hand in marriage. “Run along with your parents, I will come to you soon.” “Promise me you will rest.” 54

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“I can do little else at the moment, you have my promise.” She gazed at him with eyes that sparkled with pleasure. Mickie was smiling when she turned and discovered her parents watching them. Forcing a smile, she advanced to where they waited. “He has done so much for me, I had to say good-bye,” she explained. John studied her for a moment, and then shifted his gaze to Art before turning and striding from the manor. She departed with her family a short time later.

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Chapter Seven

Four weeks later, Art showed up on her front stoop. His face was still slightly yellowish from being bruised. His split lips were healing. She greeted him in a shy manner. It was a shame that time and distance could make a person feel insecure. Maintaining a proper distance between their bodies, she locked her fingers before her stomach. “How are you doing? You are looking better.” “I look like hell,” he still spoke stiffly, as though he were embarrassed to be complimented. “But I have a gift for you.” He waved his bandaged hand for her to advance to him. The bandages were light now, merely to protect his scabbed and healing hands. “Gift?” She strolled forward. “I hope you like it.” Taking her hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring with a square cut emerald and slid it onto her finger. “It was my mother’s.” “Ah, Art we agreed to discuss this after your face was healed.” He nodded. “We will go over ever detail as soon as my face is completely restored.” Her father entered the room and Art strode to his side, withdrawing a paper from his pocket, he passed it to John. Assuming it was some form of marriage agreement, she walked over and tried to gaze over Art’s sleeve. The angle her father was holding the paper prevented her from seeing. Moving around them, she tried to peek between their bodies, but their coat sleeves blocked her view. Moving further around her father, she glanced over his sleeve just as he passed it back to Art. “Cannot tell you how relieved I am to see that, I was beginning to wonder.” “Then you have no objections if we proceed this evening?” “Not a one.” Her father shook his head. “Excellent, in hopes that you would feel that way I brought along an old family friend to make it official. If you will excuse me, I shall have the porter fetch him.”

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She did understand that Art was proceeding to ease her father’s mind until they had an opportunity to talk. As she wasn’t needed while the men went over contracts and discussed whatever had to be considered, she moved to the doorway. Returning to the parlor Art blocked her path. He took her arm and turned her back into the room. “You don’t want to disappear now. Can you wait five or ten minutes?” Heat climbed into her face when she realized he thought she was going to the privy. “Yes, I can wait an hour.” Leaning close, he whispered. “I took you to the privy while you were fevered.” A squeak of horror was wrenched from her throat. She slapped her hand over her mouth. The twinkle in his eyes was enough to make her think he was making her the fool. Giving him a hard stare, she pointed a finger at him. “You…. “I see it has started already,” a deep voice said. Twisting her head, her thoughts scattered as she stared in shock at the priest that walked into the room. This was his friend that was going to help discuss a wedding contract? Her mother hurried in the door behind the priest. Mary flashed a wide smile and scooted around the priest to be introduced with her father. “This lovely lady is Mickie, and her parents Mary and John Willis.” Art faced them. “This is my father’s friend, Father Thomas Brown.” “My great pleasure to meet you. I trust I shall be seeing more of all of you in the future?” He was a pleasant looking man with a round face, and smile lines around his warm, brown eyes. Her parents agreed by nodding. “If we are ready, everyone will step over here before the settee where there is more room and we can begin.” The priest walked to the desk and held his hand out to Art. “I believe you have a document for me to sign.” “Certainly.” Removing the folded paper from his pocket, Art passed it to his friend. Father Brown opened it and glanced at it briefly before laying it on the desk. “Excellent, first I would like to go over a few things.” Sliding his arm around her shoulders, Art startled her. Then advancing he took her closer to the priest. Glancing up at Art in confusion she waited for an explanation. Was this to be some odd form of marriage counseling? The bans would have to be read at church once an agreement was settled. She wasn’t certain she was willing. It would be foolish to wed a man that could calmly state that he would kill you. It did not bode well for the future. Once under his reign, she would be answerable to him for all of her 57

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actions. She was fortunate that her family had money so she could afford to remain single, if that was her choice. Still, she was falling in love with him…. The priest spoke of the solemn responsibility to one’s partner during marriage. Mickie listened without paying attention. He started reciting the marriage ceremony in a deep authoritative timbre he no doubt used while in the pulpit. Perhaps, he thought they needed to know the words that they might consider their meaning. If she told him, Art wasn’t going to wed her until he was certain she wasn’t going to turn into a vampire how would he react? Most likely, this priest would think her insane and refuse to perform the ceremony, if they did decide to wed. Thinking of how wonderful it would be to be married to Art and being held in his arms and loved every night, caused chills to race up her spine. Her father stood proud and straight and announced that he was giving her hand to Art. So, her father had decided to agree. It was for the best, as she had a feeling that she was going to allow Art to talk her into agreeing to the marriage. Why is he quoting the whole marriage ceremony? Her jaw dropped as she began to wonder if the priest was seriously performing the ceremony. “Oh shit.” It slipped out of her shocked brain through her lips before she could take it back. Clamping her mouth closed, she realized he certainly sounded as though he were. Turning her head, she looked at her parents for their reaction. John and Mary were standing behind them, her mother was crying, holding a handkerchief to her cheeks, her father cast Mickie an encouraging smile. Suddenly she realized Art was watching her. Glancing forward she noticed the priest was also. “You say, I will,” the priest instructed. She repeated his words. The priest asked Art a bunch of questions about protecting and caring for her. Art said, “I will.” She couldn’t believe her parents were a party to this… trickery was the only word that came to mind. “I now pronounce you…” the robed priest was saying in a formal authoritative manner. Black spots formed before her eyes, growing quickly larger and merging. Clutching at Art’s arm she felt herself sinking and Art catching her up in his strong arms. “She has been very ill.” His deep voice came from far down a tunnel.

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“Ah, that would explain the quick wedding. Fear of losing someone can put a flame under a kettle.” The old priest remarked, before everything went silent aside from a roaring in her ears. Mickie heard them talking as she became aware of her surroundings, lifting her eyes she found she was gazing into Art’s yellowish bruised face. “We were going to discuss things when your face was well,” feeling confused she remarked. “Was it real?” Knowing she was asking about the ceremony, he nodded. “We will discuss it later. I promised, and I intend to keep my promises to you always,” Art reassured in a gentling tone. He wanted her to be compliant to what had taken place and not embarrass him before the priest. Later he was going to discover she had a very sharp tongue. “But it won’t change anything.” We’re already married. “Not much.” He smiled then flinched, and held his hand over his split mouth gently touching his injured lip. “You have got to stop making me smile, or my mouth is never going to heal.” “There was another killing in the paper this morning. Throat torn out,” the priest said to John, standing several feet away from Art and Mickie. Art’s head snapped around. “Did it say the location of the death?” “Well, the body was found in the cemetery over on the edge of the disreputable side of town.” The priest shook his head. “It is a strange way of killing someone. There wasn’t any blood, so the body is believed to have been moved from another location.” He looked at Mickie lying on the settee. “I will not stay and disturb your rest. I hope you will visit me soon, so we can become better acquainted.” “Certainly, I would like that.” Mickie forced a smile to her lips. She did not blame the older man for performing the ceremony; he was merely doing what he had been asked to do. She wanted him to leave so she could discuss the killing with Art. Betty had popped into her mind when the priest had mentioned the form of death. Mickie sent up a silent prayer that it wouldn’t be Betty doing the killing. “Thank you for coming so quickly to my aide. I don’t think we will be celebrating until Mickie is recovered. We will certainly invite you when we do celebrate,” Art said. “Thank you. I will be honored to come. I will pray for you to have a quick recovery.” “We had thought I was well,” she explained her reaction to the ceremony. “But, I’m afraid I haven’t gotten completely over my illness.” Art turned to her with a blanched expression. 59

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“What?” she asked. He shook his head and waited until the priest had departed. “Shall we discuss your condition now or later?” She laughed ironically. “After today you can tell everyone, ‘I married a vampire.” “It’s not funny, but that was not what I had in mind.” “No? It’s ironic, another of life’s kicks in the teeth.” Tears filled her eyes. Her life with him was over. Now that it was gone, she wanted to be his wife more than anything in the world. “You are not turning. We killed the vampire and you never drank any of his blood. You are probably increasing.” “Are you certain I am not turning into a vampire?” “Certainly, and before you ask, I am sunk like a ship in deep water by your charms. I love you.” His word slowly sank into her consciousness. “Oh, Art.” Tears of joy fell down her cheeks. He loved her and they had a future. She wasn’t going to turn into a vampire and they could be together. They would have a family and live happy together. If he was right, they may already have a baby on the way. She felt a moment of wonder at the thought of a baby growing inside her. Then it occurred to her that she may have gotten pregnant too close to the time she had been bitten by the vampire. “Art, do you think it will be a vampire?” “No.” Lifting her from the settee, he carried her from the parlor. Her parents followed, wishing her happiness and joy. The footman held the entrance door open, and he carried her outside. Wrapping her hands around his neck, she gazed at his handsome face. How could I have ever thought he wasn’t handsome? “You are a scoundrel.” “Indeed.” His dark eyebrow quirked but he didn’t look at her. Walking down the front steps, he kept his attention on their progress. “Where are you taking me?” “Well, I thought that it was time that I seduced you.” “Oh. Do you think I am capable in my condition?” “What condition?” “You said I was increasing.” The conversation stopped as he set her feet inside a black coach, and released her. She moved onto the seat and waited for him to join her. Entering the coach, he settled on the bench seat beside her, sliding his arm behind her shoulders. 60

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“Increasing is a natural condition, not an illness, no reason you cannot continue with your life as usual.” “Marriage is not usual for me.” “It will be by tomorrow.”

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Belita Renn

About the Author

Belita writes romance, erotica romance, and has written comic short stories. She lives in GA with her Family. When she isn't writing she is promoting her work or spending time with her family. She is also a relative of actor Buster Keaton. Also available from Belita Renn and Venus Press… Seduced by a Stranger Blizzard Stranger The Ladies The Goblin King Vampire Mansion Lust of a Vampire

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